The pros and cons of breathing
by Ailin-'O
Summary: Ever wondered how Murtagh came to become Thorn's Rider ? Prisoner in Uru'baen, the young son of Morzan struggles to keep Galbatorix from finding Eragon and Saphira. rated T for future slash... continues in Journey Westward.
1. Darkness was his only friend

-1

**Title : **The pros and cons of breathing  
**Author :** Amy Shinomori  
**Characters : **Murtagh, Galbatorix, Eragon, Saphira, Thorn.  
**Rating :** R.  
**Disclaimer :** Would I be there if I owned them ?  
**Warnings :** none yet… maybe slash, but you would have to squint very hard.  
**Notes :** Takes place after Murtagh's 'kidnapping' by the twins. Wrote this while listening to 'The pros and cons of breathing' by fall out boy. Dude, I have a life… just not right now .

The pros and cons of breathing

After days of unconsciousness, the only thing he noticed as he finally opened his burning eyes was the disturbing lack of colours…

…_the lack of red._

He released a pained sigh as he let his sight adjust to the thick darkness surrounding him…

He didn't care where he was… he just felt grateful for the relief this blessed nothingness brought him.

_How did it come to this…?_

His mind didn't seem to register the cold gnawing at his bruised skin… there was darkness, blessed darkness, and it was all that mattered.

For Darkness was the only friend that he had left. The only friend that would never, _ever_, betray him.

Darkness was a constant were the light had always failed him.

Light exposed him.

He couldn't stand the blinding light that seemed to make Eragon glow with the intensity of a new born sun…

Light made him see things that weren't there… that would never be there.

Things like this warm feeling of belonging he got every time he looked Eragon in the eye… friendship, forgiveness… at last.

Lies… Light was full of treachery, making monsters look peaceful and harmless, hiding the glint in their eyes as they planned your demise.

Light-headed, for some reason he couldn't quite place, Murtagh slowly rose from the floor, using his hands to grab at a moist wall for balance, listening intently for any sign of life in his surroundings.

Darkness made him hyperaware of his surrounding… aware of everything that went on around him. The damp floor under his naked feet, the stiffening smell of old, rotten wood, enveloping him… the slight brush of cold draft on his hyper-sensitised skin as a door cringed in it's hinges on his right.

A ray of cold light crawled on the floor in his direction and Murtagh found himself flinching from it, pressing his sore back to cold stone in a vain attempt to remain shielded in the shadows.

'Greetings, Murtagh, my young friend…'

And from the very bottom of his soul, the young man felt all trace of hope choke and contort before dissolving in a puff of rotten air.

Worst even than the treachery of Light and colours…

King Galbatorix's triumphant chuckle as he crossed the room to stand in from of him, in all his glorious mightiness, embodiment of defeat in his youthful eyes.

'How good it is to see you again… son of mine.'

Snarling into the shadows, every single muscle of his body tensing at the perspective of the upcoming fight, Murtagh bent slightly to glare at the King.

'There is not an ounce of your blood in my veins, monster. The very idea of a parentage to you makes me sick to my stomach. I am no son of yours…'

'Hush. Is this a way to address you Godfather, my young friend…?' Galbatorix sniffles, brushing an imaginary tear off his cheek.

Then, letting a wide, malevolent grin spread his thin lips, he adds…

'…you are my son, Murtagh, in everything but in blood. And you shall be treated as such…'

Flinching slightly as the King slowly forced his way into his mind, Murtagh squeezed his eyes shut in a vain effort to push the probing consciousness away, recoiling at the intense cold it left in it's wake.

…_starting with your punishment, _the Rider completed, brushing his barriers down with humiliating ease.

Cheeks burning with shame as the man in front of him let his consciousness overwhelm him, the young swordsman greeted his teeth, using every ounce of his will-power to keep the King away from what he desperately wanted to find, shielding the precious memories of his time with Eragon and Saphira with walls of metaphorical steel.

Feeling a sudden surge of boldness, he stood up straighter, glaring at the King in front of him, seething in barely restrained rage as he saw the maniacal smile spread on his face. He resisted the need to back up further against the wall and took on agonising step forward to use what little advantage he had on the old Rider : his height.

But it was not enough to win this kind of battle, that much, Murtagh knew; and therefore, he was not really surprised to see the mocking glint in those black pool Galbatorix had for eyes.

Still, strong with the conviction that he was tenacious enough to give the King a hard time acquiring what he craved to know, the young man kept on with his stubborn act, pushing at the alien consciousness with all his might, determined to fight and defend those whom he had sworn to protect with his life…

…_one last time…_

Letting loose a frustrated roar after endless minutes of mind-wrestle with the boy, Galbatorix spunned around in a whirl of sumptuous velvet, his eyes twitching from suppressed anger. Then, taking an excruciatingly slow breath to calm himself, he turned on his heels to face Murtagh once again, frowning at the repressed glint of satisfaction he could see in those glowing green eyes…

'Very fine, Murtagh…' he said in a slippery voice. 'Protect your 'friends' as long as you can… but you will have to face the consequences of your stubbornness.'

Mind-numbing pain exploded through Murtagh's chest and he frantically pressed his hands to it, trying to stifle the burning fire that spread through his whole torso with agonising slowness. Fighting to remain conscious as his mind slowly lost focus from the loss of oxygen, he opened his mouth to refill his aching lungs but found himself unable to breath in…

Tongues of fire curled behind his eyes and he slowly lost all sight of his surrounding… the last thing he saw as he closed his eyes was the vivid, burning red by which he was being engulfed…

)))oOo(((

When he awoke again, after what felt like months of nightmares, there was no Darkness to sooth his pained soul.

Instead, he found himself in the middle of a richly decorated room, spread out on his belly on a painfully soft carpet with two big, glazed brown eyes lurking at him.

Startled, he made to crawl up to his hands an knees and chase whatever was looking at him so intently away but found his own body totally unresponsive. He fought the numbness a few seconds more before setting his mind to work.

Thinking… he was good at thinking. He could use his mind better than the most powerful sword if need be…

So instead of trying to chase the thing away, he just stared at it, trying to make himself appear as calm as possible so as not to scare it… a scared beast was not something he wanted to be faced with right now, knowing he couldn't move a toe to save his life.

To his surprise, the beast in question was nothing but a big, fat brown dog, looking at him with un restrained curiosity as he struggled to get his body to respond his commands.

The dog, visibly bored out of it's mind, stood suddenly and came to give his face a few, quick licks before it started sniffing the nape of his neck.

Wincing at the putrid smell of the animal's breath, Murtagh closed his eyes and let his consciousness wander, shyly touching the dog's simple mind.

_Roll me over, _he asked softly, his thoughts full of promises, images of hands stroking the beast's ears to lure the animal into obeying him.

Visibly startled by the intrusion, the dog jumped back, staring at him with wild eyes as it seemed to consider its options. Then, almost timidly, the brown animal gave him a weak push in the shoulder, as if to roll him over.

_Yes, good boy, just a bit harder…_

Barking happily, the huge dog gave another push, harder this time…

In the few minutes, Murtagh ended up on his back, staring up at the masterful painting that covered the ceiling…

…dragons… everywhere.

He knew this painting… he had seen it in the past.

…

He was in his father's room ! He was in Morzan's quarter at Uru'baen !

_No…_

Concentrating on the binding charm that incapacitated him, Murtagh mentally shook himself and probed his surrounding with his consciousness, feeling the magic which numbed his muscles and slowly loosening the knots.

Sure, he couldn't use magic the way, Galbatorix did, the way Eragon did… but all he needed was his consciousness, there, for the charm only prevented him from giving commands to his body. He just needed to free himself.

It took time, long, agonising minutes, but eventually, he felt the binds lift from his consciousness and was finally able to give a push, sit up…

… and face Galbatorix, whose amused little smile made his stomach turn and contort.

'Took you long enough, young man.' the man sighed, standing up at last. 'I though you were tougher than that… was Tornac such a pitiful teacher ?'

Revolted but too weak to stand up, Murtagh fixed Galbatorix with a dark glare before spitting at his feet.

'Tornac was a better teacher, and a better man than you will ever be…'

'Such bad manners…' the King sighed, shaking his head slowly before raising his marked hand towards Murtagh's chest once again.

With a few uttered words, he lifted the young man up into a standing position, leaving him struggling with his legs to find his balance.

'If you want to defy me, at the very least, you could do it with some dignity, standing, not cowering at my feet.' he frowned.

'I am not…'

'Cowering ? Not yet, maybe… just wait until you see what I have in store for you today…'

Murtagh knew he had no chance of fighting him off as the Rider once again tried to force his way into his skull…

He knew he had no chance but still, he fought, snarling and growling low in his throat, slightly hunched to brace himself against the King's mental assaults.

He was strong enough…

…he had to be.

)))oOo(((

_End of first part… yeah yeah, not very inspired, yeah yeah, I was/am tired… yeah, bad English… yeah . _

_I'm looking for someone who would be kind enough to beta me for the next chapters (and well, point out my mistakes in this one too xD). _

_Writing sad stuff makes me feel depressed… by the end of this fic, I will probably kill myself xD._

_See ya around and have a nice day ! _


	2. Red, like his father's sword

-1**Title : **The pros and cons of breathing (2/?)  
**Author :** Amy Shinomori  
**Characters : **Murtagh, Galbatorix, Eragon, Saphira, Thorn.  
**Rating :** R.  
**Disclaimer :** Would I be there if I owned them ?  
**Warnings :** none yet… maybe slash, but you would have to squint very hard.  
**Notes :** Takes place after Murtagh's 'kidnapping' by the twins. Wrote this while listening to 'The pros and cons of breathing' by fall out boy. Dude, I have a life… just not right now .

_The Pros and Cons of Breathing_

Red… he hated red with a passion. Red was the colour of pain… red was bright. Bright and painful to his aching eyes. Red was the colour of blood. Red like his father's dragon… red like his father's sword… red like his father's eyes. Red like his mother's blood on his hand as he tented to her, late at night, when she had had a fight with him.

Red like the big, shiny stone that was resting on Galbatorix's laps…

Weeks had passed since the day of his abduction… weeks of merciless torture, weeks of idleness… locked up in his father's quarters, alone with his own tormented thoughts.

Weeks of pointless, endless encounters with Galbatorix…

'Open up to me, Murtagh,' that he said, each and every time. '…open up to me and you won't regret it.'

The answer was always the same… a snort and a defiant glare, quickly followed by the sound of raged breathing as the young man desperately fought to resist the mental assault of his tormentor.

'I don't want to break you, don't make me.' Galbatorix would smile, always, rubbing his chin, scratching the thick stubble there before he let go of Murtagh's mind and watched as the young swordsman crashed to his knees. 'Do this willingly, Murtagh. And I will give you power… power that defies the imagination.'

Today, though, the atmosphere wasn't the same.

There was no smile on Galbatorix's pale lips, no amused glint in his dark brown eyes. His patience was thinning, Murtagh could feel it… feel the tension in the pit of his stomach. He could almost hear the sound of the wheels rolling around Galbatorix's head as he tried to find new means of punishment for him.

Taping the tip of a long, pointy nail against the glossy surface, then gently tracing a vein of pure-white that ran down the side of the stone, the King sighed again, his eyes never leaving Murtagh's pale, tired face.  
'Do you know what this is ?' he asked, very slowly, his voice low and steady.  
'Yes…'

A lazy smile crept on those pale, emaciated lips and a glint of something seemed to cross his eyes.

'A dragon-egg… Murtagh, do you know how much this is worth ?'

Trying hard to focus on the man's words instead of the strange humming that resonated through his entire being at the simple sight of the egg, Murtagh let a slow frown crease his brow, his own eyes glued to the shiny surface of the stone.

'Would you like to touch it ?'

He had never seen an Egg before, let alone touched it. But something about the polished item made him wince with uneasiness at the simple idea of his hand making contact with it.

'No…' he said, shaking his head to himself in an attempt to free his mind of the loud humming sound that seemed to radiate from the Egg.

'No ?' Galbatorix asked, genuinely surprise by his answer.

Growling in annoyance, the young man ran a hand over his face, grunting as his eyes seemed to keep landing back on the Egg, no matter how hard he tried to glare at the King. So instead, he glared at it so intently that he could almost see cracks appearing on the glossy, ruby-red, surface of the stone.

Raising an eyebrow at the egg as it started to roll back and forth on his laps, King Galbatorix let his eyes travel from it to Murtagh and back.

'You don't want to touch it…' he smiled viciously. '…but it would seem that it wants to be touched.'

Murtagh reluctantly tore his gaze from the Egg to stare at Galbatorix's maniacal grin.

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, the young son of Morzan took at deep breath in to calm his shaking limbs as realisation slowly dawned on him.

The Egg was moving, rocking from side to side. And the cracks he thought he had imagined… they were real.

_Not this, no…_

'You can't run…' Galbatorix stated, before he even had the time to check out the exits. 'I have posted guards at every single one of those doors. I knew you wouldn't want to face it, son.'

Snarling, Murtagh took one menacing step towards the throne, his hand reflexively grabbing for his sword.

'I am not your son !' he growled, his eyes throwing daggers in Galbatorix's general direction. 'And I am not my father either…' he added, glaring down at the Egg on the Kings laps.

'That much is certain…' said the King, rolling his eyes.

In a swirl of red velvet, the man slowly stood from his throne, letting the Egg fall to the floor with a loud thud without so much as a glance in its direction.  
The Egg kept on rolling, still humming and vibrating.

Galbatorix smiled wildly as he saw the Egg stop, barely a few inches from Murtagh's feet. He then proceeded to brush imaginary dust from his robes, turning around as if to leave the room.

'Where are you going !?' cried the young man, his eyes frantically running from the Egg to the King, hands twitching at his sides, his face pale as a corpse's.

Flashing him a wide grin over his armoured shoulder, Galabatorix gave a little wave in Murtagh's general direction.

'I'll give you some time alone with your destiny, son.' he smiled. 'Have fun…'

Returning his gaze to the floor where the shiny, throbbing red stone lay at his feet, Murtagh desperately tried to take a step back but found himself glued to the spot, his heart drumming so loud against his chest that he couldn't hear anything else… except the maddening humming sound coming from the Egg as it called out to him…

Fingers itching, eyes watering, Murtagh found himself unable to stand straight any longer and slowly let himself slide down to his knees, his gaze half-way between a glare and a stare as it settled on the Egg once again. His mouth was dry and his hands were shaking… he was looking down at the Egg and all he saw was blood.

Ruby red blood shaped into a strange-looking, warm, polished stone.

He swallowed again, focusing his eyes on the white webs that ran all over the shiny surface of the Egg before raising a hand, palm down, to press it to the glossy stone.

Something ran through him, then. Something hot… burning waves of pure excitation. Mixed feelings that he definitely knew weren't his started flooding his already chaotic mind, rendering him completely unable to think straight…

The Egg was warm, so warm against his palm. It was so soft and lustrous, glowing softly as the reflection of the flames, burning in the fire-place, made it look even more alive…

Mesmerised by the shadows dancing on the warm stone, Murtagh gasped softly as he felt something push against the palm of his hand… startled, he pulled it back slightly to stare at one crack, larger than the others, as it slowly grew wider, deeper…

Suddenly, there was silence… heavy, anxious silence as Murtagh waited to see what would happen next.  
The egg gave another cracking sound, and then, tiny parts of it started to fall from the top, clattering to the floor with the crystalline sound of broken glass…  
A small, scald-covered nose pushed through the hole, slowly making it wide enough for the rest of the head to follow. A set of warm, glowing ruby eyes settled on Murtagh's clear, green ones.

There was a pause, filled with incertitude as Murtagh struggled to not let his mixed feelings get the better of him.

The small creature whined softly, giving another hard push, freeing the rest of it's small, slightly downy body and slithered on unsteady legs until it was right under Murtagh's nose, looking up at him with big, shiny eyes…

…eyes that were devoid of all malevolence. Eyes that shone with burning passion and devotion.

_Murtagh…_

The small dragon stretched it's wings then, and gave another tiny whine, extending it's head towards the young man's nose, as if to touch it, but seemed to change it's mind and just stood there, staring up expectantly, waiting for his young Rider to make the first move. 

Feeling as though he was watching himself from above, Murtagh gave in to his first impulse and raised a shy hand towards the small dragon, letting it register his every move as he bent down a little lower to press his palm against it's shiny, scalded flank.

A jolt of currant went through him, throwing him off balance. He withdrew instantly, rocking back and crashing on his behind, watching, wide-eyed, as the dragon simply flapped it's wings in annoyance at the loss of contact.

_Murtagh… _

Swallowing again, Murtagh raised his hand, to stare at the spiralling scar that was still glowing on his palm. He jumped slightly as he felt the warm tip of the dragon's nose nudging his other hand, giving it a quick, apologetic lick before flipping it's wings to help lift itself from the floor as it jumped onto his laps.

Murtagh stared, his expression blank, as the warm little thing came and snuggled against him, hiding it's little head in the crook of his arm.

He took a deep, slow breath to calm himself, feeling all fuzzy and warm from the altercation. He flinched slightly as he felt something nudge at his consciousness, willing him to make place for that warm, comforting presence that felt so familiar, so intimate, that he could have sworn it had always been there…

He sighed then, letting go of his inner walls for the time being and relaxing in the warm embrace of the Dragon's consciousness.

_This… is this what Eragon tried to explain to me ?  
Is this… what he felt…?_

Was this what his father had felt…?

Feeling anguish rising in his chest, Murtagh squeezed his eyes shut to keep all thoughts of his father from his consciousness…

I am not him, he repeated, struggling to convince himself as he watched the dragon's little chest rise and fall in rhythm with his own raged breathing…

_I wont turn into him…_

No you won't, he heard in the back of his mind. That same boyish little voice that kept repeating his name, over and over until he finally let himself fall into dreamless slumber.

_Murtagh. _

)))oOo(((

Part two up  
XD, I am sooooo tired now, my eyes… my poor eyes… oh, I am suffering with you Murtagh xD

Hope you guys liked it, I'll start on part three tomorrow.

See ya.


	3. A Kindred Spirit

-1**Title : **The pros and cons of breathing (3/?)  
**Author :** Amy Shinomori  
**Characters : **Murtagh, Galbatorix, Eragon, Saphira, Thorn.  
**Rating :** R.  
**Disclaimer :** Would I be there if I owned them ?  
**Warnings :** none yet… maybe slash, but you would have to squint very hard.  
**Notes :** Takes place after Murtagh's 'kidnapping' by the twins. Wrote this while listening to 'The pros and cons of breathing' by fall out boy. Dude, I have a life… just not right now .

_The Pros and Cons of Breathing_

The first thing that met his eye, the next morning, was an endless sea of blue and grey…

Blue… how long had it been since the last time he had seen such a great amount of clear, watery blue… how long…

Days, weeks, months… years…?

_Eragon, _he sighed to himself, gently rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he struggled to sit up and gauge his surroundings.

_Murtagh…_

Startled, the young man frantically searched the area for the source of the voice, surprised to find nothing but dark walls of raw grey rock around him.

_Murtagh !_

Feeling a warm weight shift around on his stomach, Murtagh swallowed slowly as snatches of memories from the past evening events came back to him… light-headed, he tilted his head down, bangs of unruly black hair falling into his eyes as he dropped his gaze on the creature currently stretching and yawning, wings spread in strange, illogical angles as it slowly raised it's little head to fix Murtagh with searching ruby red eyes.

_Muuuuur-tagh,_ the creature sighed mentally, extending it's neck towards Murtagh's face to rub it's warm little nose to the man's chin.

Scoffing amusedly, the dragon then gave another quick lick to his Rider's cheek before turning it's head towards the outstretched sky above them…

Smiling despite his weariness, Murtagh raised a hand to scratch the back of his head as he followed the dragon's gaze.

_A cave…?_, he asked himself, unconsciously reaching for the Dragon's consciousness as he stood up to take a look around…

They were in some kind of circular, roofless cavern. The floor was cold and sharps stones kept tearing at the bare, sensitive skin of Murtagh's feet. The cavern itself was pretty large. Large enough for Saphira to fit in with another couple of Dragons…

_I hope Eragon is alright…_

Shaking his head to clear his thought and focus on his own precarious situation, the young man bent down to pick the little red dragon up and cradle him into his arms.

Wagging it's tail happily, the little thing gave a tiny little yawn and gazed up at Murtagh with enamoured eyes. Then, sighing contentedly as he felt the young man's arms tighten around him, the small dragon nuzzled his little head in the crook o Murtagh's elbow and closed his eyes…

Engrossed that he was in the observation of his new companion, Murtagh didn't even hear the light footsteps that resonated through the cavern, signalling the entrance of a visitor.

'Are your new quarters to your liking, son ?'

Startled out of his reverie, the young man snapped his head up, fixing a deadly glare on the King of Alagaësia as he crossed the room to stand in front of them.

'I see you are taking good care of our little friend, there, Murtagh…' Galbatorix smiled, a malicious glint in is dark eyes. '…a beautiful little beast… just like your father's.'

Gritting his teeth to keep his anger in check, Murtagh lets his hand slowly travel down the dragon's downy little back, as much to calm the young creature as to keep himself from saying something that would put them both in danger…

Snorting slightly at his own change of priorities, the young man let his eyes fall back to the growling dragon in his arms. There was no trace of softness left in those big, piercing ruby eyes as they settled on the King. The little chest had swollen, every single muscle in that small body tensing as the young hatchling stood straight on Murtagh's arm, wings stretched menacingly to make himself look bigger, ready to defend his Rider with his life if he had to.

Feeling a similar need to protect his young Dragon swell in his chest, Murtagh made a grab for his sword, but once again, his hand came back empty.

'Murtagh, Murtagh… this is going nowhere…' Galbatorix frowned, reaching out, as if to touch the Dragon. 'Do you seriously think you could rival with _me…_?'

'I won't die cowering in front of you…' came the low answer.

As if feeling his young Rider's anger rising, the Dragon snapped his jaw at the King's outstretched hand, seething with rage and disappointment as the hand withdrew…

'Ohoh…' scoffed the King. 'It would seem that your little friend in hungry, son… have you not fed it ?'

Frowning down into his Dragon's eyes, Murtagh realised that the poor thing had probably been starving all night while he slept.

'What a lousy Rider you are…' Galbatorix sighed, turning on his heels and gesturing for them to follow. 'Come… a meal will be served for the both of you in the dinning hall.'

Reluctant to go but knowing that the little Dragon wouldn't last long if he was not fed quickly, Murtagh sighed and cautiously followed the King towards the exit of the Cave.

_Once upon a time, I would have spit at his feet, claiming that I wasn't hungry… now I…_, he started, frowning at his own alien behaviour. _Now I guess I'll have to get used to the fact that my life is not the only thing I have to lose anymore…_

_Murtagh, _the young Dragon frowned, looking up at him with searching eyes.

_I guess we'll have to find you a name soon… just so I have something to answer to 'that', _the young man grinned.

_Murtagh…?_

_Hnnn… I suppose you wouldn't like to be named Tornac… _

_Hmpf…_

_Okay, okay… we'll see, my friend…_

_Murtagh…_

_This is getting creepy, you know… Can't you say anything else ?_

…

_Okay…that was helpful…_

_Eragon…_

Startled, Murtagh stared down at the little Dragon, his eyes wide open, only to realise that the little thing could not only feel what he felt… he could hear what he thought and dig into his memories…

_Eragon, _he insisted, making Murtagh flinch at the desperate edge in that little boyish voice of his.

Yes… that little thing definitely felt what he felt…

'Hurry up, Murtagh ! We haven't got all day…' Galbatorix interrupted, glaring at them over his shoulder.

Gently rubbing circles over his Dragon's flank to calm himself, Murtagh complied with the King's demand…

_His_ Dragon…

Feeling a jolt of excitation running through his veins, Murtagh hurried behind Galbatorix, his eyes never leaving the little bundle of scalds and feathers in his arms…

And all of a sudden, he realised that Red wasn't such a bad colour after all…


	4. Upon my word as a Rider

-1

**Title : **The pros and cons of breathing (4/?)  
**Author :** Amy Shinomori  
**Characters : **Murtagh, Galbatorix, Eragon, Saphira, Thorn.  
**Rating :** R.  
**Disclaimer :** Would I be there if I owned them ?  
**Warnings :** none yet… maybe slash, but you would have to squint very hard.  
**Notes :** Takes place after Murtagh's 'kidnapping' by the twins. Wrote this while listening to 'The pros and cons of breathing' by fall out boy. Dude, I have a life… just not right now .

_The Pros and Cons of Breathing_

The next few days were spent reading old manuscripts in the ancient language and sparing with the King's best swordsmen to kill the time.

It wasn't much of a challenge seeing as Murtagh himself had been trained by one of the King's most trusted sword master…

But it kept his mind busy and his body alert, and the young Rider felt grateful for that.

For as soon as he was done with his 'training', he was sent back to that empty cavern, with nothing better to do than drown in his own misery…

He was uneasy… it had been almost a week since his last confrontation with the King. Not that he minded the lack of psychological torment that much… but the lack of confrontation was gnawing at him… he felt like… like there was nothing else for him to do if he wasn't fighting.

He was restless…

Fortunately, he wasn't alone and the young Dragon provided a very welcomed distraction from his morose trail of thoughts.

The creature's growth was spectacular… he had doubled in size in a matter of days and his claws were now long and sharp enough to leave long scratches on Murtagh's shoulders every time the red little devil insisted upon perching himself there.

It was now harder to lift him and cradle him in his arms the way he used to, so Murtagh gathered a few blankets of warm furs and piled them in a corner of the cavern so they could easily both fit there when they slept.

Galbatorix, though he had not 'graced' them with his presence for a while, had provided them with plenty of food, parchments and ointments for the young Dragon's scales.

_Murtagh…_

_Yes, yes… I'm coming, boy, _the young man answered, hurrying to his Dragon's side on the furs with a jar of balm under his arm.

Smiling faintly at his young friend, Murtagh shaked his head as he carefully sat himself down next to him on the bed of furs.

_Here, roll over_, he said, gently pushing the Dragon down on his flank as he tilted the jar and spread some of the balm into the palm of his hand._ There, good boy._

Snorting at the appellation, the red hatchling quickly extended his head to give the side of Murtagh's face a long, affectionate lick.

_You have to stop doing that, _Murtagh winced slightly pushing a lock of hair out of his face. _I bath, you know, twice a week… You don't need to wash my face for me._

He heard what he had grown to recognise as a mental chuckle resonate through his skull and let his frown melt as he started spreading the balm on his Dragon back in slow, circling motions.

Feeling a sense of peace and serenity spread through his whole being, he let loose a little sigh and closed his eyes a bit, listening to his Dragon's slow purr as he moved on to the other flank…

He let his thoughts wander then, breathing in the rich smell of the scented balm, feeling a cold breeze brush strands of his hair on his forehead. He let his memories flow back, engulf him… he thought of the wind on his face as he rode Tornac through the Beors, laughing at Eragon's whiny little voice as the boy complained about everything and nothing… thought of the way he never failed to stare at Saphira, fascinated by those huge, feathered blue wings and the way they slid in the air as she flew.

He remembered wishing he could fly too… get away from everyone and everything…

How he wished he could just flap his wings and leave the prison Galbatorix was slowly building around him… around _them_.

_Soon, _someone muttered in the back of his mind…

_Soon, _he repeated, feeling tears gathering in his eyes. _Soon might be too late…_

For all he knew, Eragon could be facing the Ra'zac while he sat there, doing nothing. Eragon could be risking his life, fighting the King's army…

Snorting derisively, Murtagh gave a sudden, hard push and stood up, glaring up at the sky as if it was responsible for his own incapacity to flee the cavern…

Frustrated beyond belief by his own powerlessness, he let out a low growl, glaring daggers in the direction of the castle (or where he assumed the castle would be) before turning back to his Dragon, his eyes softening slightly at the sight of his companion's confused ruby ones…

_I need to get out of here… I can't stand the captivity anymore… I need to know, I need to… to just get out of here ! _

_Soon, Murtagh…_

_Yes ! But when is 'Soon' exactly ? Eragon could already be dead for all I know !_

Then, realising how desperately obsessive he must have been sounding, he gave another frustrated growl before running a hand over his face to calm himself…

_I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap, _he sighed, sitting back down next to the young Dragon and gently scratching him behind his wing.

'How touching…' a cold voice mocked behind them, startling both of them out of their almost one-sided conversation.

Instantly jumping back to his feet to face the King, Murtagh balled his fists to resist the urge to throw himself at the bald tyrant to throttle him with his bare hands.

'You look a little tense, Murtagh, son… why would that be ?'

Teeth greeted so tightly he could almost feel the muscles snap in his jaw, Murtagh struggled to keep his breathing calm and steady as he slowly took a step towards Galbatorix, glaring down at him through messy bangs of hair.

'Ah, I know…' said the King. 'I am sure some fresh air would do you a lot of good.'

'What…?'

Confused, Murtagh let his shoulders drop back slightly, frowning down at the King as the man seemed to be pondering the wisdom of his next move…

'I said… would you like to take a walk in the Gardens…?'

Smiling enticingly, the old King of Alagaësia extended his hand towards Murtagh in invitation.

'You want to let me out ?' Murtagh asked, confused, searching the King's face for any trace treachery…

'Only if you agree to come back willingly after a while…'

'No guards ?'

'No guards…' Galbatorix smiled indulgently. 'Only your word that you will come back as soon as I call you.'

Wincing slightly at the implication of his words, Murtagh reached out for his Dragon's consciousness, needing reassurance before agreeing to anything…

Still glaring up at Galbatorix's smiling face, the young dragon gave a mental shrug before flapping his wings to signal his consent.

'Fine, you have my word…' Murtagh sighed, grimacing at the thought of being ordered around by Galbatorix of all people.

'Ah, Murtagh… I'll need something a little more elaborate than that…'

_I knew it couldn't be that easy…_

'I won't flee the castle. Vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal.' he breathed out slowly, using words he had learned earlier that morning from one of the King's old parchments. Then, as an afterthought, he added. '…not today, at least…'

'Well, that's a start…' Galbatorix grinned, raising his hand towards the huge door at the entrance of the cavern to open it… 'You will be back before the sun disappears behind the Beors…'

'Yes…'

)))oOo(((

The air was fresh in the Gardens… the sun shone, high in the sky, warming the bright green grass under his feet, making him squint his eyes slightly as he cast curious glances around him… how could such a peaceful place belong to a man like Galbatorix…?

Smiling faintly at the rich scent of flowers that hung on the air, Murtagh tilted his head amusedly as he watched his young Dragon sniffling blossoms with a wary little frown on his face.

_Those flowers are heavily charged with magic… this place is way too close to the Desert for this kind of vegetation… _

_You do speak, then, _Murtagh grinned, crouching beside his young hatchling friend. _I was starting to wonder if there was any ounce of intelligence in that shiny little head of yours…_

_Stop teasing… this place… it's not right…_

_I know, _Murtagh sighed. _But I can't stand the thought of being so near Galbatorix all the time…_

Looking down at him with clever red eyes, the young Dragon tilted his head slightly…

_I wouldn't let him arm you, _he said, then, puffing out his chest and spreading his wings, trying hard to look menacing.

Murtagh stayed silent for a while, but his own chest swelled with pride at the sight of his young dragon-friend, his whole scaled body sparkling in the bright daylight as he bowed his neck to ruffle the young man's hair with his nose.

_You look like a miniature red sun, my friend…_ he said, standing up to brush dust off his pants and look up at the sky above them.

_Soon, you'll be flying too… you'll be a King, up in the sky._

_Oh, yeah… and you'll be my Queen…_

Taken aback by the dry humour in his young friend's voice, Murtagh looked down at him and at this exact moment, he could have sworn he had seen his Dragon grin up at him.

_Whatever…_ he grunted, turning around to pick up a blooming twig and turn it around in his hands, examining it thoroughly before raising it to his nose and breathing in the rich perfume of the bright crimson flower…

_You do look like a queen, you know ? _the hatchling dragon remarked teasingly…

Playfully tossing the branch at him, Murtagh winced slightly as something caught his finger, tearing into his flesh in the process.

'Damn…' he said softly, raising his hand closer to his face to examine the wound.

_Are you alright…?_ his Dragon asked, panicking slightly as the scent of warm blood reached his nose.

_I'll be fine, _Murtagh said. _It's just a thorn…_

_Let me see…_

Rolling his eyes at his Dragon's mother-hen behaviour, Murtagh extended his hand towards him to show him that there was, indeed, nothing to worry about. But that did nothing to reassure the young hatchling whose nose wrinkled slightly at the sight of his Rider's blood. Snatching his head up, the Dragon gave Murtagh's bloodied hand a long lick to clean the wound. Then, with great caution, he reached up with his sharp, ivory-white teeth and pulled the bit of wood from the young man's hand.

_I wonder how you survived eighteen years without me, _he said, spitting the thorn out and glaring at it intently.

_It was just a thorn…_

_It could have been poisoned ! _

_This is rich coming from a Dragon, seeing as your whole spine is covered in similar needles… I could scratch myself on _your_ thorns and die of… blood infection._

_Murtaaaaaagh… _

_I swear, you are one hell of a thorn in my foot, _the young man grinned down at his hatchling friend.

_I'm not a thorn… _the dragon whined, flapping his wings moodily.

_Oh yes you are… _Murtagh laughed_… Thorn._

_What…?_

Smiling gently, Murtagh crouched down again to pat his Dragon's head.

_You are a Thorn… _he said softly, plunging his clear green eyes into his Dragon's fiery ones… _the one Thorn I want to keep embedded in my flesh until the end of time…_

_The one Thorn you're never getting rid of, _the Dragon concluded, rolling his bright red eyes but leaning into his Rider's touch with a little contented sigh.

)))oOo(((

Doooooone… !

'_Vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal : _upon my word as a Rider.'

Ahaha, chapter 4 up ! (hell, 4 chapter in two days… it's been a while since I last spent so much time on my computer at once.)

I hope this isn't getting too boring. I am trying to develop on Murtagh and Thorn's relationship.

And yes, there will definitely be slash, later on. So please, bear with me a little bit longer.

There there, done… I can close my eyes for a while… at last.

See ya all around.

-iA


	5. Up in the skies, at last

-1

**Title : **The pros and cons of breathing (5/?)  
**Author :** Amy Shinomori  
**Characters : **Murtagh, Galbatorix, Eragon, Saphira, Thorn.  
**Rating :** R.  
**Disclaimer :** Would I be there if I owned them ?  
**Warnings :** none yet… maybe slash, but you would have to squint very hard.  
**Notes :** Takes place after Murtagh's 'kidnapping' by the twins. Wrote this while listening to 'The pros and cons of breathing' by fall out boy. Dude, I have a life… just not right now .

_The Pros and Cons of Breathing_

Looking up at the sky from his makeshift bed of dark furs, Murtagh couldn't help but let himself drown in self-pity as he morosely waited for Thorn to return to their cavern…

A lot had happened in the past month… starting with his abduction by the Twins…

He was a Rider now…

…'_in everything but in skills',_ according to Galbatorix.

The old rag had tried, many times to lure him into revealing Eragon's projects for the Varden… but Murtagh, bull-headed that he was, had refused to share the information…

_Ah, well, it's not like I can share information I don't have, anyway… but he doesn't need to know that. _

Oh, sure, Galbatorix could have broken into his mind if he had really wanted to… but the old King didn't seem too eager…

'_I could crush you under my boot… I could break into your mind and ravage everything. But you 'sanctuary' is so well guarded that my intrusion would probably drain every ounce of strength you have… it would kill you. And I definitely don't need a dead Rider by my sides…'_

Smiling faintly to himself, Murtagh crossed his arms behind his head and released yet another sigh.

'_Tornac has taught you well…'_

Thorn, now taller than him and still growing, was currently learning how to fly with Shurikan…

'_He is not as bad as his master…' claimed the young Dragon. 'He doesn't have a choice… _We_ don't have a choice…'_

Snorting sceptically, Murtagh glared up at the sky, bitterness clouding his mind.

He had been so eager to see Thorn's first flight… he had thought of nothing else for weeks…

And there he was, prisoner of his own quarters while his young friend was out, rummaging the skies…

At least Galbatorix hadn't forced him to take lessons with him…yet.

Sooner or later, he would, Murtagh knew.

The King had made it clear that he wouldn't let a _gift_ such as Murtagh's go to waste.

'_You can fight me all you want, Murtagh, but I won't let you become a liability in this war... be it with me or against me, you will fight… if you chose to fight by my sides, you'll be a formidable ally… however, if you decline my kind offer of friendship, I want to make sure that you'll be a worthier adversary than this weakling Eragon…'_

Murtagh had been so furious then. How could that old rag insult Eragon.

Eragon who had defeated the Shade Durza… Eragon who had escaped the Ra'zac ? Eragon for whom the first Egg had chosen to hatch…?

So he said, and therefore, he was punished… severely.

It was never good to be on the receiving hand of an over-powerful, megalomaniac Rider's wrath…

He had been comatose for days after that, his nightmares so vivid that he would claw at himself in his sleep, bit his lips so hard they would bleed.

And he knew for a fact that Thorn hadn't left his side, not once, until he finally woke up.

He had felt him, all around, everywhere.

'_Someone tried to scrye you… I think it was Galbatorix. He seemed very anxious to see you come out of it. I think he was afraid that… that you wouldn't wake up…'_

Thorn was so big now… his legs were thicker than Saphira's so Murtagh presumed that he would be bulkier… but he was a little over a month old now and he still couldn't fly.

Murtagh had been worried that there was, perhaps, something wrong with him, that he would never leave the ground… but Shurikan didn't seem to find it all that worrying.

It comforted Murtagh, somehow…

That and the fact that a spy from Surda had come back to the castle, bringing back news of Eragon's allegiance to the Varden.

_Thank all the Gods… he is still alive. That lucky little brat…_

Murtagh had looked so relieved to hear that his young Rider-friend was still alive that Galbatorix had taken upon himself to erase the idiotic smile from his captive's face.

They had acquired a kind of unspoken routine over the weeks… every morning, Murtagh would be escorted to the castle to train with the King's swordsmen. His afternoon would usually be spent reading and learning more about magic and the ancient language while Thorn desperately tried to get him to come play with him… and the young Dragon would usually succeed.

As for the evening…

Ah, the evening ! Every night, just before the sun disappeared behind the mountains, a guard would come to escort him to the castle. And every single time, he would try to flee…

He usually beat the guard up, for good measure, but sometimes, if he was feeling especially weary after a long day of training and reading boring parchments, he would just incapacitate him with a few uttered words in the ancient language before taking his leave.

But each and every time, the King would send Shurikan after him… and the dragon would find him and bring him back, tightly wrapped into his claws.

Sometimes, the King would come along… Murtagh hated those times.

…for they always left him very weak and battered.

As soon as they regained the castle, a meal was served for the both of them in the Dinning Hall. The King would sit at the head of the long table… and Murtagh would always put as much distance as he could between them by placing himself on the opposite end of the table, glaring at him through most of the meals.

Afterwards, the King would usually try to make him 'embrace his destiny', talking smoothly, explaining that though Murtagh did not understand the necessity of using strength to unite Alagaësia right then, he would come to realise that there was no alternative to this brutality…

…the answer was always the same, though. Murtagh, still bloodied from his punishment for trying to escape, would grin up at the King and claim that he would rather see Alagaësia free and disorganised, than orderly and tyrannised…

They would part then, Galbatorix would go back to whatever he usually did as night and Murtagh would go back to Thorn and let the young Dragon tend to his wounds…

At night, Murtagh would always come to snuggle against Thorn's side, seeking warmth as well as reassurance under his Dragon's wing.

_Soon, I'll be able to fly, Murtagh… Soon, we will fly away from this cursed place… be patient, my friend, it's almost over…_

)))oOo(((

Waking up to the sound of flapping wings right above him, Murtagh shot up from his bed of battered furs, his hand once again reaching for the empty place where his sword used to be.

_Murtagh ! _

Looking up at the large volatile obscuring his vision, the young Rider let a wide, crazy grin spread his lips.

_Thorn, you're flying !! _he yelled, his eyes twinkling madly at the sight of his young, floating friend.

_How perceptive of you, oh Wise One ! _

_Stop it, Thorn ! Fly around, I want to see you ! _the young man said good-naturedly, jumping up and down with excitation. _Oh, Gods, you're **Flying**_

Looking down at him with a fond look in is warm red eyes, Thorn landed a few feet from his Rider, bending down slightly to ruffle Murtagh's hair and lick his face.

_When will I be able to fly with you ? _he asked, reaching up to pat his Dragon's head affectionately.

_As soon as you come back from the castle… Shurikan said that Galbatorix wanted to talk to you as soon as we were done…_

Swallowing back the lump that had formed in his throat at the mention of the King, Murtagh quickly shaked his head to clear his thoughts and made a grab for his boots, slipping them on eagerly…

)))oOo(((

'Murtagh, my friend !' Galbatorix greeted him, as soon as he entered the Hall. 'I was expecting you.'

'I know you were… what did you want to talk about?'

Smiling mischievously, the King raised one elegant eye-brow and gestured for the young Rider to come sit by his side.

'You seem quite eager to talk today, son.'

Gritting his teeth so as not to start an argument again, Murtagh forced a dry smile on his face, taking some time to come up with a courteous answer.

'Thorn has just taken his first flight… I am… quite anxious to ride him.' he said, keeping his voice low and steady.

'Oh… and you are being polite too !' Galbatorix beamed at him, eyes shining with malice. 'What a miracle…'

Fighting hard to keep his temper in check, Murtagh just kept on smiling dryly, his right eye twitching slightly from time to time…

'…anyway ! This is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.'

…_another twitch… gulp… still smiling. _

'…now that Thorn has finally learned how to fly -and it was about time, don't you think-… now, I am wondering whether or not I can trust you to not attempt to escape before your training is completed…'

…_there it is again…_

'Ahh… trust. Such a fragile bond.' Galbatorix said, his eyes brimming with barely contained glee. 'Did you trust your little friend Eragon ?'

His eye twitching madly at the mention of the younger Rider, Murtagh took one, deep breath to calm himself.

_Thorn is waiting for me… soon we'll be up in the sky, flying together at last…_

'Yes…' he said softly, his eyes never leaving the King's.

'Touching… did you know that he didn't make a single move to save you from the Twins…? That the only dead friend he has ever mentioned in Ellesmera was Brom…?' the King frowned then, faking grief. '…he saw you _die_ and didn't move a single finger to save you… sad, isn't it ?'

'What has it got to do with Thorn being able to fly…?' Murtagh grunted, not daring to meet the King's gaze for fear the man would see the deep, gaping wound hidden behind his eyes…

Sure he had known all this, he had been there when the spy had given his report… but that didn't make it less painful to hear.

'Oh, yeah… it was just a little digression…' Galbatorix smiled ruefully. '… I was wondering if I could _trust_ you to come back to your _quarters_ when your are done…'

'You want me to swear in the ancient language…' Murtagh stated, already formulating his vow in his head.

'That would be very nice of you…'

So he wouldn't escape this time…

What did it matter ?

It was not like Eragon would miss him that much, anyway…

)))oOo(((

The meeting with the King had drastically tempered his excitation…

Still, he couldn't keep a little smile from stretching his lips as he saw Thorn waiting for him eagerly, ready to share his little patch of sky with him.

_What did he want…? _the Dragon asked suspiciously as he let the young man climb on his back.

_Since when do you wear a saddle ? _

_Shurikan said that you shouldn't ride me without it… that I could harm you. What did the King want ?_

_Another promise to not attempt anything while flying up there with you…_

_In the ancient language ? You know how I feel about you making vows in the ancient language, don't you ?_

_Thorn… it's just for today, _Murtagh sighed, settling himself in the saddle.

_Every vow you make in the ancient language gives him more power over you._

_And so…? It's not like anyone misses us out there… they don't even know I'm still alive. They don't even know you exist !_

_Is that the only excuse you could come up with…? It's very lame Murtagh…_

_Yeah, it is. You know what ? _I_ am _**lame**_… shall we proceed, now ?_

_Murtagh…?_

_Please, Thorn… _

Gently pushing off the floor with his hind legs, Thorn heaved a pained sigh as he felt Murtagh retreating into his own mind…

He had waited for this one moment his whole life… he had wanted it to be perfect. He had wanted to offer the world to Murtagh, on a silver platter.

Desperately trying to push through his Rider's thick mental barriers, the young Dragon gave another flap of his large wings, finally leaving the ground.

Together, they rose through the cavern, both engrossed in their own, conflicted feelings.

But as soon as they reached the top of the walls, bright light hit their faces, setting Thorn's whole body on fire, once again making him look like a magnificent red sun. The warm sunrays seemed to shake the Dragonrider out of his self imposed isolation, making him want to just reach out with his consciousness and be one with his Dragon.

…and so he did…

They kept rising for a while, oblivious to the rest of the world as their minds finally blended together, two parts of something bigger, something stronger… strong enough to take out a whole army.

When Thorn finally judged they were high enough, he stopped his ascension, extending his wings wide as he looked for thermals to float upon for a little while…

_It's… _Murtagh started, unable to find the right words to describe the feeling of unrestrained freedom that flooded his whole being, immersing him in a whole new world of sensation.

…_magic_, Thorn completed for him, gently stroking his Rider's mind to calm him down as he felt Murtagh's breath start to quicken, his heart beating faster than ever as he took a look over Thorn's side.

_We're pretty high, _the young man grinned, a maniacal glint in his eyes. _One wrong move and you'll have to pick me up with a sponge. _

_You really do worry me sometimes, Murtagh,_ Thorn smiled fondly, dropping to the next thermal. _You've seen nothing yet… let me show you what it's really like to fly, my friend. _

_Gladly, _came the eager reply.

_Hold on !_

In a swirl of ruby red, Thorn suddenly dropped from the pillow of warm air he had been floating upon and let himself fall, head first, towards the ground, his wings folded neatly by his sides. Murtagh, excited that he was, couldn't keep a wild bark of laugher from escaping his lips as he pressed himself between Thorn's shoulder blades, his eyes wide open as they neared the floor with maddening speed.

_Thorn ! _

From the small window of his richly ornamented room, perched in the highest tower of his castle, Galbatorix, King of Alagaësia, watched intently as the red Dragon redressed his course at the last minute before rising once again to disappear in the clouds…

With a frown, he quickly dismissed the memories of his first flight that threatened to overwhelm him and make him empathies with the boy…

No matter how powerful he became, no matter how many spells he knew in the ancient language, he would never be able to change the past…

He could see himself in Murtagh… he had been young and reckless too. He had had dreams, desires, passions… now he felt nothing but hunger… insatiable hunger as he watched his young protégé fly with his Dragon.

_I'll succeed through you, Murtagh. Through you, I will change the past and repair my mistakes…_

)))oOo(((

Chapter five ! Cheers !

I have to admit that I quite like this one… by the end of the last part, I almost felt sorry for this poor Galby… but this won't last, I know.

Thanks to all of you for all your wonderful reviews ! It makes me want to write more… and faster xD

Next in 'The pros and cons of breathing' Galbatorix finally reveals that he is Murtagh's true mother, (as opposed to Selena who seemed to be making so much differences between her own children (man, she saved Eragon and left Murtagh alone with Galbatorix…? What kind of mother would do such a thing ?))

Errr, well, just kidding, the next chapter is not ready yet… I have a few ideas already, I just need to jot them down somewhere…


	6. The bitter sting of jealousy

-1

**Title : **The pros and cons of breathing (6/?)  
**Author :** Amy Shinomori  
**Characters : **Murtagh, Galbatorix, Eragon, Saphira, Thorn.  
**Rating :** R.  
**Disclaimer :** Would I be there if I owned them ?  
**Warnings :** none yet… maybe slash, but you would have to squint very hard.  
**Notes :** Takes place after Murtagh's 'kidnapping' by the twins. Wrote this while listening to 'The pros and cons of breathing' by fall out boy. Dude, I have a life… just not right now .

_The Pros and Cons of Breathing_

Staring down at the parchment sitting in front of him with a blank expression on his face, Murtagh sighed again before shaking his head to dismiss his thoughts…

Sprawled onto his side, his fierce red eyes never leaving the young Rider, Thorn purred slightly to attract the man's attention.

_You've been reading too much… your eyes are sore and I can feel the beginning of a headache._

_I'm not done yet…_

_You've been hunched over this same parchment for almost an hour, Murtagh. I don't know what you are doing, but you are definitely not learning anything useful that way. _

Sighing in frustration as he rose from the floor, massaging the back of his sore neck with one hand and stretching his other arm high above his head, the young man slowly made his way towards his young Dragon-friend.

_I wanted to learn more about scrying._

_You know enough about scrying, _Thorn scoffed, raising his wing to make place for the young man. _You should rest now…_

_I just want to know if everything is alright in Surda…_

_Yes, _Thorn sighed exasperatedly, _I know, Murtagh. You've been thinking this over a million times. I'm sure Eragon is fine…_

Groaning tiredly as he reached for the jar of water that was resting against the wall, Murtagh leaned in against Thorn's warm side and nestled his head into the long, soft feathers of his half-folded wing.

Closing his eyes, the young man let the memories of his time with Eragon resurface, drawing the boy's childish features in his mind with a fond little smile stretching his lips, before directing his thoughts towards the capital of the Varden.

'Draumr Kópa!' he recited, then, staring down into the jar.

For a few seconds, nothing happened, and Murtagh started wondering if he had not made a mistake while performing the spell. But suddenly the surface of the water started swirling, progressively losing it's limpidity as it slowly turned into black, thick liquid.

A jolt of pain exploded in Murtagh's mind and he flinched back from the jar, ignoring it as it scattered to the floor, spilling it's once again clear content on the ground.

_Murtagh ! _Thorn cried out, fussing over him as if death itself had decided to pay him a visit. _Murtagh, are you alright !?_

_I'm fine, Thorn…_ the young man said, finally shaking himself out of his trance, gently batting the Dragon's nose from his face. _I couldn't see a thing… it's like… like someone was trying to push me out. I wasn't prepared…_

_It must be some kind of spell, _Thorn frowned. _You shouldn't have tried to scrye him like that, it could have been dangerous. Some protecting shields can drain all strength from your body, Murtagh… scrying can be very dangerous !_

_Stop fussing, already, Thorn !_ _What do you want me to do ? Sit on my butt all day long, waiting for the world to fall…_

_You take useless risks ! Do you really think that boy would do the same for you ?_

Unresponsive, Murtagh slowly began to retreat into his own thought, blocking Thorn's thoughts from his mind as he slowly pulled back from the Dragon's protective embrace…

_He thinks you are dead, Murtagh. And he didn't even seek to avenge you… he didn't even stop to mourn you. _Thorn seethed, jealousy making his temper rise so quickly he didn't even seem to notice the pained expression that etched itself upon his young Rider's features._ What does it matter if he lives or die !?_

Sometimes, Murtagh forgot how young Thorn really was. How childish he could be.

This was one of those times…

'Leave…' he commanded blankly, not even bothering to think his answer.

_Murtagh…_

'Just leave already… I need some time to myself.'

Discomfited, the young Dragon sent a last worried glance in his Rider's direction before taking his flight…

It had been weeks since the last time he had flied without Murtagh and he suddenly realised just how empty he felt without his Rider's weight on his shoulders…

_This is not how it's meant to be… _he thought bitterly as he rose through the clouds, trying hard to not let Murtagh's despair ail him… but failing miserably.

_Murtagh…_ he cried silently, bitter tears forming in his mind at the thought of his grieving Rider.

Murtagh couldn't blame him for speaking the truth though… he knew how raw and undiluted Dragon's emotions were. How strong the possessiveness Thorn felt towards him really was.

Most of the time, he didn't mind…

…most of the time.

Thorn was compulsively jealous, his young Rider had learned to live with that. He was young and therefore, a bit excessive in his affections… Murtagh understood… even though he hadn't had the chance to feel much in his childhood, he had witnessed this kind of irrational behaviour in the past…

But he had never seen Saphira throw tantrums whenever Eragon decided to come spare with him… whereas Thorn… Thorn had taken a dislike to anyone Murtagh chose to spare with him in the court…

It worried him…

This, and the fact that his young Dragon would often twitch and snort at the mention of Eragon's name.

_Maybe it's me… I may have been thinking about him too much. Maybe Thorn is just tired of me moping around, doing nothing constructive. _

The both of them had not been arguing much over the past two months. Not unless Murtagh did something reckless to spite the King or agreed to give his word in the ancient language…

Galbatorix gave him access to Uru'baen's library and so, seeing as he was not wiling to start any kind of training whatsoever with Galbatorix, he was spending most of his time with his nose buried in parchments and books he had brought back to their quarters, gradually learning more about magic, often practicing new enchantments with Thorn and trying to memorise as many words as he could.

In about two months of teaching himself the subtleties of the ancient language he had become quite skilled in it and was able to recognise pretty much every word that he read or heard Galbatorix mutter while demonstrating something.

For even though Murtagh had refused to take official lessons with the King, the man had taken it upon himself to give him occasional tips and demonstrate new ways of manipulating the elements to him.

And despite his violent dislike of the King, Murtagh could feel his fascination growing…

The days were growing longer once again and Galbatorix had agreed to let him fly with Thorn whenever he wanted, as long as he promised not to do anything reckless.

Murtagh had agreed… he didn't have much to lose, did he…?

Besides, he could feel that something had changed in the King's behaviour. He was calmer, more… peaceful somehow. He hadn't tried to force him into anything in days…

There was something wrong about that. Something that Murtagh couldn't quite place but that left a strange feeling of hopelessness in the pit of his stomach.

The King was up to something, and Murtagh couldn't help but shiver at the thought of what Galbatorix might have discovered that would change his behaviour so drastically…

)))oOo(((

Thorn didn't return until very late that night, after diner. He was drenching, seeing as it had been raining all afternoon, and his face was set into a grim expression of lassitude…

He didn't say anything as he walked by Murtagh, ignoring his Rider's intense stare as he lowered himself to the ground and rolled into a tight ball against a wall.

Sighing slightly at the pouting looks his Dragon gave him, Murtagh got up from his spot near the fire and came to kneel next to his friend, gently pressing the palm of his marked hand on his glistening feathers and muttering a few words under his breath. Comforting warmth wrapped itself all around Thorn and the Dragon found himself sighing contentedly despite his sour mood.

_I was worried, _Murtagh said simply, soothingly running his hands over his friend's neck, leaning in to rest his cheek against Thorn's warm flank as he calmly settled himself on the cold floor next to him.

_You shouldn't worry about me, _Thorn sniffed. _I'm big enough to take care of myself._

_It's not that, _Murtagh trailed off, letting Thorn's mind wrap itself protectively around him. _I thought you wouldn't want to come back…_

Scoffing with disbelief, Thorn carefully draped his wing over his young Rider.

_You're the reason why I stand, Murtagh… I'll take you back, always… even when your fight is over… even when your pain is coming through… I hatched for you… after hundreds of years, I finally found you… and I'm never letting go. _

Intense relief washing over him as he felt Thorn's mind close around him, Murtagh swallowed back tears and pressed himself more tightly against his Dragon's side, silently pledging himself to his companion…

)))oOo(((

'I'm glad you finally decided to accept my kind offer, Murtagh…' Galbatorix smiled wickedly, his smooth voice trailing slowly, making Murtagh want to flinch away from it as one would flinch from burning tongues of venom slithering towards them.

'You said you would train me, even if I refused to serve under you…' he said, his voice thick with emotion as he fought to contain his revulsion. 'I am willing to submit myself to your training but certainly not to your command…'

_I need to be strong… I need to learn… for Thorn. I can't let him down. I need to be strong if I want to fight…_

'Usually, I would punish you for your insolence.' said the King, with a gleeful glint in his dark brown eyes. 'But I am feeling particularly cheerful today and your acceptance of my tutoring has done nothing but improve my mood… I accept your conditions, my friend. Starting from now, you are my student and I am willing to share what little I have learned about magic and swordsmanship over the years…'

Scoffing at his own modesty, the King rose from his throne, waving a hand at Murtagh to make him come closer.

'Now, let's see how much you have learned from my personal library.' he said, smiling charmingly.

)))oOo(((

Weeks passed but Murtagh was too engrossed in his training to really care much about the notion of Time. He hadn't attempted to flee the castle once in over a month and something told him that he wouldn't want to interrupt his training, even if he could.

He could feel himself growing stronger, could feel his mind becoming sharper… his whole body radiated magic… he was practically glowing.

The knowledge he was being fed defied his imagination. He learned more everyday… and he just couldn't get enough. He felt full, complete… he was in control, at last…

…or so he thought.

Thorn could feel the link between them thicken… they spent most of their days connected, their minds tightly wrapped around each other, instinctively sharing everything they learned through their respective trainings.

Sometimes, Galbatorix would take them both in the mountains to spare or hunt, relishing in Murtagh's eagerness to learn…

Of course the boy tried hard to hide it, pretending he was just doing what he had to do… but the King knew better. He could see the fascination in those clear green eyes of his, could feel the adrenaline of a good fight radiating from his young student…

Murtagh was good, he had to admit… better even than his father had been. He was much smarter, that much was indubitable. And he had a stronger will…

Morzan had never seen things the way Galbatorix had… sure, he was strong, and useful… but he had basked in destruction, slaughtering for pleasure, not by conviction.

Morzan believed in Survival of the fittest… there was nothing more to life for him.

Whereas Galbatorix wanted to change the world to his liking… he wanted to shape Alagaësia into the perfect picture of order and obedience his mentors had painted for him… he was a pragmatist.

_Murtagh_ was a pragmatist… they were much more alike than the young man thought.

'Focus, young man, I want you to use your brains to find this fox !'

But Murtagh tended to favour his heart too much in battle, preferring to fight with his feelings rather than his sharp, acute mind. He was still hot-headed and passionate…

…but Galbatorix knew that sooner or later, he would be able to use Murtagh's youthful idealism to his advantage.

_The sooner the better…_

)))oOo(((

Another chapter ! Yay, I'm feeling rather inspired this week .

Please feel free to join suggestions to your reviews…

Starting from the next chapter, I'm going to stick a little more to Eldest for a little while…

I hope you guys are still enjoying this… I sure am lol.

It's good to write something again (I finished posting my last fic this last summer… , I'm a bit rusty !)

Anyways, thanks again for all those reviews, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside .


	7. The daring soul

**Title : **The pros and cons of breathing (7/?)  
**Author :** Amy Shinomori  
**Characters : **Murtagh, Galbatorix, Eragon, Saphira, Thorn.  
**Rating :** R.  
**Disclaimer :** Would I be there if I owned them ?  
**Warnings :** none yet… maybe slash, but you would have to squint very hard.  
**Notes :** Takes place after Murtagh's 'kidnapping' by the twins. Wrote this while listening to 'The pros and cons of breathing' by fall out boy. Dude, I have a life… just not right now

****

**_The Pros and Cons of Breathing_**

****

**_  
_**

_I don't like the way they're looking at you…_

Craning his long neck to perch his head on Murtagh's leather-covered shoulder and glare at the men gathered in front of them, Thorn gave a low rumble, his vivid ruby eyes sparkling in the sun as he distantly listened to Galbatorix's greeting speech.

_They're not looking at me, Thorn… They're looking at Him,_ Murtagh hissed, his mouth set in a grim line as he watched Galbatorix move his hands around from the corner of his eyes. _We're just there as his apprentices… why would they look at us…?_

_They're staring at You… I can almost feel it in the pit of my stomach…_

Two months had passed since the beginning of Murtagh's training with Galbatorix and Shurikan. They had gotten so strong and skilled in both magic and swordsmanship that Galbatorix himself had been forced to admit that, providing they were lucky enough to escape the castle, they would be worthy opponents for his Dragon and himself.

Snorting derisively, Murtagh tilted his head slightly to make himself look more attentive.

He couldn't help but let his thoughts wander though, for the circumstances of his presence to this banquet intrigued him.

For weeks, Galbatorix hadn't even bothered having him around for meals. And now, he was invited to a banquet where the highest Landlords and dignitaries kept bowing to him, greeting him as they would greet a prince…

…and Thorn had been invited too.

_What does he think he is doing, showing us around like this… _Thorn thought, snapping his jaws in frustration.

_I think he is trying to reassure his supporters… the people have been growing more an more restless ever since news of Saphira's hatching reached the court. Galbatorix wants to let them know that Eragon has no chance of defeating the Empire…_

_That presumptuous old bastard, _Thorn growled low in his throat.

Agreeing whole-heartedly, Murtagh sighed again an rolled his shoulders to relieve the knotted muscles of his back. He had been training very hard all day and hadn't had the time to get any rest before diner.

_I'm feeling sick…_ he said, eventually, as the King started waving one elegant, ringed hand in their direction. There was something scary in the old man's smug behaviour, in the look of pure pride that was etched on his bestubbled face as he waved his long-fingered hand to attract attention upon his young apprentice.

_There is something rotten on the air, _Murtagh thought, wrinkling his nose slightly as he felt hundreds of eyes weight on him.

_Must have something to do with that old rag's fetid breath, _Thorn snorted.

But suddenly, something in Galbatorix's voice changed. He was growing more excited, somehow, Murtagh could feel it as he reached around himself with his consciousness to gauge the crowd's intentions.

'And it's a real _pleasure_, believe me, men of Alagaësia, to introduce, on this bright, auspicious day, the new hope of this country, the promising light that will lead our way through this war…' the King trailed off, averting his eyes from the crowd to stare at them, a jubilant look of triumph on his ashen face. 'Murtagh, son of Morzan and his proud companion, Thorn Aiedail, the Morning Star !'

Exceeded, Murtagh went to protest but felt something in his chest crack sinisterly…

_What…? _

Behind him, Thorn whined slightly as he felt a jolt of pure pain pierce through his skull… a low growl escaped him and he jerked his head up to let the rumbling sound turn into a menacing howl.

_What the hell is going on !? _Murtagh asked, feeling a cold numbness spread through him.

With a start, the young man realised that the sensation he was experiencing wasn't new…

_It's like… it's the exact same feeling as the day I woke up in Morzan's quarters… this numbness… Galbatorix is controlling me ! How ?_

With this repulsively smug glow of self-congratulation in his eyes, Galbatorix turned back to the now cheering crowd, raising his voice slightly to cover his people's acclamation.

'And the only thing I have to say about my talented young apprentice is that…' grinning, Galbatorix stopped to look at the both of them as they struggled to escape his control. '…his father would have been proud of him.'

The cheering kept growing louder until Murtagh felt the urge to scream and slaughter everyone and everything in the room, just to make them quiet once again.

_A thought worthy of the son of Morzan, _Galbatorix mocked in his head.

_I'll kill you, _Murtagh answered, feeling beads of sweat form on his temples as he watched himself from above, bowing courteously to the beaming crowd.

He felt like he had been sucked out of his own body, unable to feel or do anything…

…the powerlessness was making him insane.

_Let go of me ! _he howled, lashing out at the King's consciousness with all his might.

But the old Rider kept on grinning, thanking the lords as they paid their respect to the new general, laughing quietly as he saw Thorn's eyes roll back in their sockets as he fought to resist the King.

_Don't tire yourself out, my boy, _he said directly to Murtagh after the last of the lords had gone back to the crowded dining hall. _You will need plenty of strength to lead my army into battle next week… _

_You filthy bastard, _Murtagh groaned, seeing himself sitting down to the King's right side at the head of the table, a fake smile stretching his lips.

_Hold your tongue, Murtagh ! Don't make me do something you could both regret… _

_There is nothing in the world that could possibly make this situation worse for me ! _

_How wrong you are, my young little friend… I have knowledge… knowledge that could make you turn on your own Dragon… or that could make your dear Thorn slice your throat without so much as a blink…_

_Stop bragging you old fool ! I would never do such a thing, _Thorn protested, seething interiorly as his broad body latched itself on a huge platter of meat on the ground.

_I did not request your opinion, Dragon… be quiet while I speak to your master._

_You puny human ! How dare you…!?_

'Domia Aoredi'sàl !' the King muttered under his breath.

Thorn felt a jolt of something run up his spine, straight to the back of his huge head and settle there. Intense waves of cold washed over his numb body, stilling him entirely as his soul seemed to progressively escape his control, shattering into a billion pieces…

Time seemed to slow down as realisation dawned on both Murtagh and his young Dragon-friend.

_He knows my true name, _Thorn gasped, his voice faint and distant in Murtagh's mind.

Murtagh gasped, not even realising that he once again controlled his body. Shock freezing his features, he listened to Thorn's weakening voice in horror, desperately reaching out for his Dragon's consciousness, trying to bring him back and shelter in his own mind.

_Thorn ! _he called out, mentally clawing at Galbatorix's mind with strength he didn't know he had in him, to make him let go of his young friend.

'Are you alright, Shur'tugal ?' someone asked quietly, landing a gentle hand on his forearm.

'No !' he snapped, his eyes wild and distressed as he jerked his head to stare at the stranger seated beside him.

Suddenly, he could feel Thorn once again and the numbness came back over his body…

He heard himself apologise for snapping at the young man that was looking at him with a mixture of worry and fear in his eyes.

_Do not anger me, Murtagh. _Galbatorix snarled in his mind. _I could kill you both in the blink of an eye. And of course, I would start with Thorn, just to make sure you feel the pain of losing a part of your own soul… _

A touch of regret softened the King's voice on this last part and for an instant, Murtagh could almost feel empathy for the man swell in his chest… but the next, he remembered who he was dealing with and mentally chastised himself for sympathising with the man that had reduced them both into slavery in less time than required to spell the word Tyrant.

In the back of his mind, he could feel Thorn shivering and moaning, weakened by the violent mental assault he had had to undergo. Wincing mentally, Murtagh reached out to pull the Dragon's mind into his own body and cradle it soothingly.

_Will you behave ? _Galbatorix asked blankly as he began to loosen his grip on Murtagh's mind.

_I don't have much of a choice, _Murtagh snapped, stroking Thorn's mind to calm him down.

_I will let go of your minds, _sighed the King. _But if you take so much as one step out of line, I will break you both and use your bodies as soulless puppets in the upcoming war. _

_Do as you wish… like I said before… there is not much that could possibly make this position more unbearable than it already is…_

As promised, the King retreated from Murtagh's consciousness, leaving him fighting the urge to gag as the implications of this new turn of events swirled around in his mind, making him feel dizzyingly light-headed.

'Can we be excused for the night…?' he asked politely to the King.

'I know you are tired from your training, Murtagh… but those people have come a long way to see you and I want you to honour their presence.' Galbatorix answered, a fond smile curling his lips as he glanced around at his guests.

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Murtagh turned his head as he felt a light touch to his forearm. Staring up at him with admiration shining brightly in his light blue eyes, the young man that had inquired about him earlier smiled and blushed slightly, apparently searching for the right thing to say…

'I… I dreamt of dragons all my life. I read everything there is to read about them in Alagaësia, spent hours staring at paintings and sketches… I never thought I would ever get to see one.' he smiled softly, looking over at Thorn with all the respect in the world. 'The people of Alagaësia were losing hope, sir. Learning that the only Dragon of the new generation had chosen to hatch for the Varden, for those people that have been meaning to slaughter us all for decades… the people were losing faith, drowning in despair.'

Something in the sad smile that stretched those pouty lips made Murtagh tilt his head slightly to show his sympathy.

'But now, you are here… with us, Sir…' the boy smiled broadly then, looking back up, straight into his eyes. 'The people of Alagaësia have regained faith, thanks to you… They know that the new Rider is watching over them… _I _know that you won't let our people down.'

Before Murtagh could even think up his answer to this heart-breaking little speech, Galbatorix gave a cheerful chuckle and wrapped his large hand over Murtagh's shoulder.

'I believe you have not been introduced to my young apprentice yet, Magdal.' said the King with a rueful little smile. 'Murtagh, meet the Earl of Sharktooth, Magdal the Clear-sighted… thought he may have the looks of boy, he his wise and clever beyond his years. He will be your second Lieutenant…'

'It will be an honour to serve under your command, my lord.' the young man said, before nodding his head in the direction of a huge bald, bearded man on the other side of the table, directly in front of himself. 'This is Little Lucian… most people call him Lucian Deadpan, for he is very… silent and impassive. He will be your first lieutenant.'

_Like hell he will, I'll kill myself before I serve under Galbatorix…_ Murtagh thought, letting a fake little smile stretch his lips.

_Murtagh…_ Thorn growled. _Like I would let you do such a thing…_

Sighing sadly, the young Rider turned to look at his lieutenant with an expression of grim resignation.

'You are very young for a warrior, my earl.' he said softly. 'No offence meant, of course…'

'None taken…' smiled the boy. 'I'm old enough to fight, general. I won't be liability in battle, don't worry…'

'You remind me of someone I used to be very fond of…' Murtagh said before shaking his head to erase the painful memories of long lost friends from his mind…

He had no time to waste on the past… he had to find a way out of this.

'Gentlemen ! The meal is served ! Eat all you can, while you can.' Galbatorix said suddenly, his voice strong enough to be heard by his whole audience.

)))oOo(((

The evening went on, so slowly Murtagh could have sworn Galbatorix had messed with the notion of Time itself…

His body felt as if the weight of a dead horse had been tied up to his back and his mind was so weary of all the pointless chit-chat that was going on around him that he could have screamed until the whole court dropped dead…

How a scream could kill a hundred people, he had no idea yet, but he could think of some handy words to make them close their ugly mouths and pinch they big, fat noses until they all died of oxygen deprivation. He almost chuckled to himself at the mental image he got. Pressing the back of his hand to his lips to keep a mad grin from creeping on his face, he clenched his jaws and glared at a fair-haired young woman that was looking at him with love-struck eyes from the other end of the table.

Inside his head, Thorn fumed at the looks she was giving him…

_I swear I'm going to bite that ugly head off if she doesn't stop staring at you with those ridiculously big, glazed eyes of hers…_

_Don't be so possessive, Thorn, _Murtagh scolded, not even paying attention to the girl as he saw Galbatorix raise his glass to him from the corner of his eye.

'To the most promising Rider of this new generation of Dragons.' he said, beaming as the whole crowd started cheering.

Rolling his eyes discreetly, Murtagh sighed and fought the urge to flinch from all the attention he was getting.

_I hate you so much… you can't even begin to imagine how much, _he thought, putting all his disgust into that one sentence before tilting his head, as if to thank him.

_Oh, I know you do, Murtagh, my son… but it makes it all the more amusing for me._

When he was finally allowed back in his quarters, Murtagh dropped to his knees and howled like a madman until he was too tired to do much more than punch the floor repeatedly with his bare hand, warm blood dripping from his hand to the cold rock under his knees.

But though he felt his heart tearing at the sight of his young friend hurting himself like this, Thorn didn't try to stop him for despair was gnawing at his own soul, making him want to just curl up against a wall and die there…

_Murtagh, _he moaned when his Rider finally seemed to calm down a little. _It's going to be alright…_

Laughing derisively, Murtagh stood from the bloodied patch of ground he was kneeling upon and came, limping from exhaustion, to sit next to Thorn.

_Of course, _he grinned, tilting his head to look at his Dragon.

And the mad glint in his bright green eyes made Thorn wince with uneasiness… but he wrapped his wing around him nonetheless…

Murtagh's already fragile sanity was slowly cracking under Galbatorix's assaults…

His young Rider was losing his mind…and there was nothing Thorn could do about it…

)))oOo(((

End of Chapter 7 !

Yataaaa ! Errr, well okay, so I made Murtagh general of Galbatorix's army and gave him lieutenants… but we won't see much of them.

If you want a better idea of what Lucian looks like, well… he's like a big bald Viking with a very blank face and a thick auburn beard (I was thinking about Van zan from reign of fire when I created him xD)

As for Magdal, he's some kind of sophisticated version of Eragon… I'm not quite sure what impersonality will be like yet…

As for Thorn's name in the ancient language… I read somewhere that Paolini 'inspired' himself of Old Norse (Scandinavian), and so, I did some research… and realised that, indeed, the ancient language is almost exactly identical to Scandinavian.

I therefore looked up a few words in a English-Old Norse dictionary and found them both 'elvish' names.

Thorn is Aroedi'sàl… (Aroedi means 'daring' and sàl stands for 'soul'… which makes our young Dragon friend… the Daring Soul. (yeah, I know sighs xD)).

As for Murtagh… ah well, the name is already chosen… next chapter, maybe.

'_Domia Aroedi'sàl' _means 'dominance over the Daring Soul'…

Thanks again to all those who took the time to read and review this.

I hope you guys are still enjoying this…

Have a very nice day… or whatever, I don't know what time it is where you guys live but… well, have a nice whatever !

See ya !!! (I hope ')


	8. His duty as a DragonRider

**Title : **The pros and cons of breathing (8/?)  
**Author :** Amy Shinomori  
**Characters : **Murtagh, Galbatorix, Eragon, Saphira, Thorn.  
**Rating :** R.  
**Disclaimer :** Would I be there if I owned them ?  
**Warnings :** none yet… maybe slash, but you would have to squint very hard.  
**Notes :** Takes place after Murtagh's 'kidnapping' by the twins. Wrote this while listening to 'The pros and cons of breathing' by fall out boy. Dude, I have a life… just not right now .

**_The Pros and Cons of Breathing_**

Loneliness was something he was used to…

Sitting alone in front of a fire with nothing else than his gloomy thoughts to keep himself entertained was routine to him. Before crossing Eragon's path, he had already spent three years on the road… hunting, riding, camping… hiding from Galbatorix.

If anything, solitude was a shelter to him.

He had never felt the need for company… not before he met Eragon, anyway.

But in all his years of self-imposed exile, he had never felt as isolated as he did, now, sitting alone in his tent as he waited for Magdal's return from the castle…

A week had passed since the banquet where…where Galbatorix finally exposed his plans for Murtagh and Thorn.

It had been a _long_ week… a long week of fruitless efforts to escape the castle… a long week of unrewarded attempts to put an end to his own misery before it was too late to do so.

_I'd rather die in this cave than serve under this felon Galbatorix…_

But Thorn wouldn't let him.

_Of course…_

…and Murtagh had to endure the King's gloating…

The man was practically radiating self-satisfaction and contentment.

Murtagh couldn't help starting arguments every chance he got, sometimes fighting the King with so much force that he could almost feel the walls trembling under the waves of pure hatred that slithered through the air.

He felt weak… and powerless.

For though he had trained himself to the utmost of his capacities, he could still feel the huge gap that separated him from the King…

The man had made him swear, oath after oath, in the ancient language, to make sure that he wouldn't try to kill himself or render his Dragon unfit for duty by breaking his wings…

His last few days in the castle had been quite uneventful, though. He hadn't seen Galbatorix for a while when he received the order to saddle up his steed and join the rest of the men that were already gathered near the Burning Plains.

Upon arriving, he had been greeted with such enthusiasm that even Thorn had to admit that there was little hope of finding support against the King amongst those men.

The soldiers had been so eager to pay him their respect that diner had to be delayed until every single one of the dignitaries present in the camp had come and personally thanked him for showing up.

He had been showed to his tent then, where Magdal and Lucian were already seated, waiting for him. They stood to greet him when he entered, Magdal beamed at him, clapping his hand on his back and laughing openly as Lucian gave a small nod and brushed his knuckles over his forehead…

'My Lord, we have been dying to see you !' said the young earl, his eyes twinkling as he pulled the Rider further into the tent. 'Here, take a seat… I'll have to let Lucian explain our situation to you for I have to return to the castle to deliver my report to the King.'

'I could do it…' Murtagh said.

'Oh, it is quite long, my lord, and I don't want you to exert yourself.' Magdal answered politely. 'Besides, my father is visiting King Galbatorix, and there are matters that I would like to discuss with him.'

Raising an eyebrow as he watched the bouncy young man gather his belongings and bow his head slightly before taking his leave, in a swirl of golden velvet, Murtagh couldn't keep the memories of the last battle he fought alongside Eragon, in Farthen Dûr.

The young earl had this same youthful idealism sparkling in his limpid blue eyes and his hair shone with the same golden hue as Eragon's had.

Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, Murtagh could feel this intense craving for companionship resurface…

_Eragon, _he thought, sadly, frowning at the memory of those warm, gentle eyes on his… memories of the both of them sparring, near the fire-place…

_Please, let him be safe…_

'Sir…?'

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Murtagh detached his gaze from the dirt that was marring his boots to look his first lieutenant in the eyes.

The man was tall, taller than he was, and his skin was a tad more tanned that his. From the copper tint of his beard, Murtagh guessed that the man was probably a Northerner.

'I beg your pardon, Lieutenant…' he said, finally taking a seat in the back of the tent; bending slightly to examine the map that was covering the table in front of him.

'No problem, sir.' Lucian said shortly, sitting down on the opposite side of the table. 'The Varden are still in Surda for now. Queen Nasuada has taken the head of the Varden and is now gathering funds to feed her army by producing vast amounts of, to quote our sources, 'extremely cheap and masterfully weaved lace…'. It was brought to our attention also that the village of Carvahall has been successfully destroyed by the King's agents.'

'The Ra'zac…' Murtagh snorted, scorn obvious in his tone as he let the tip of his finger trail over Caravahall on the map. 'What about the villagers ?'

'They fled, sir. The Ra'zac have been sent after them… but the King said that we shouldn't bother ourselves too much with this… our major concern is the growth of Nasuada's ranks.'

'Yes, of course…'

Thoughtful, Murtagh propped his chin in the palm of his hand and glared down at the map in front of him…

Eragon would soon hear the news from Carvahall's destruction. It would only make him more eager to fight the King's army.

And with him by their sides, the Varden would doubtlessly cause much more damage amongst his men…

_Since when do we care about what happens to the King's troops, _Thorn snorted in his head.

Ignoring him, Mutrtagh calmly propped his chin in the palm of his hand and sighed.

Willing himself to resist the urge to growl in frustration, the young man reported his attention on his second.

Lucian had the looks of a warrior, that much was undeniable. His shoulders were broad and his thighs were thick and muscled. His waist was rather slim… he couldn't be more than a few years ahead of Murtagh himself.

As for his face… well, Lucian had what one could probably call 'the face of an honest man'. His jaw was strong and covered with a luxurious auburn beard and his mouth, though he was scarcely using it, was rather full and pleasant. His eyes, however, were as cold as steel and filled with grim determination as he rubbed a patch of dirt from the map with his calloused thumb.

Frowning slightly, Murtagh couldn't help but think that Lucian had an air of natural authority to him.

_He would make a great King, _Thorn intruded in his thoughts, gently batting his tail outside the tent, for his big head was the only part of him that could fit through the entrance…

_He would make a great general too… _Murtagh smiled sadly, gently brushing the back of his hand over Thorn's snout.

'Where can I get some rest ?' he asked politely after a while…

'The earl said you should be given our best tent…' Lucian said, his face as blank as ever. 'However, I thought your companion might be reluctant to leave your side and therefore took the initiative to find a cave near the camp, where you and your Dragon could both fit easily… I'll send a few of my most trusted men to guard it while your take a rest.'

'Thank you…' Murtagh smiled weakly. 'I'd rather not be guarded though. Thorn and I will be fine on our own…'

'As you wish, my lord.'

'…and I'd rather you just call me Murtagh…' he sighed.

'Very well… Murtagh, sir.'

_Well, that's a start… I guess._

)))oOo(((

_So… this Nasuada woman wants to fight us with lace, _Thorn snickered, scratching the floor of this new cave with his claws in a vain attempt to make it more comfortable for Murtagh as the young man settled down next to him.

_It seems to be working, though, _Murtagh conceded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. _She has raised enough funds to feed and equip her army. That's good…_

_Good… how does any of this benefit us…?_

_At the very least, we may avoid a complete butchery… as they were before Nasuada took this initiative to produce lace, the Varden wouldn't have stood a chance against the King… Now, we know for a fact that they are ready for battle…_

_Still, lots of people are going to die on both sides… your men are going to die, Murtagh, are you ready for that…? _Thorn inquired, gently brushing the tip of his nose over the back of his head to ruffle his hair.

_They're not my men, Thorn. They're Galbatorix's men… _

_Yes… but they think you came to protect them and fight by their sides… they accepted you as their leader. You are responsible for them… _

_Thorn, I'm not even on their side… not willingly anyway ! How do you want me to fight for them…_

_Because it is your duty as a Dragonrider, Murtagh, _Thorn scoffed, as if stating the obvious. _Riders have **always** committed themselves to the protection of the people of Alagaësia... _

_I'm not a Rider, _Murtagh sighed, refusing to meet his Dragon eye.

_Oh, yeah ? _Thorn mocked. _What are you doing, talking to a **Dragon** then ? Or am I just some twist of your imagination ? …some kind of imaginary friend ?_

_That's not it, Thorn… _Murtagh sighed. _I am not a Rider… I'm a… a forsworn…_

_What the devil are you talking about, Murtagh !? _squeaked Thorn, his wings flapping angrily as he fought the urge to grab Murtagh with his tail and shake him around to wake him up. _You are not a forsworn !_

_All my life, I have lived with the weight of my father's felony… I spent my whole childhood trying get myself rid of his name. But I can't… I can't because, no matter how hard I try, I'm still Morzan's son… _he sighed, resignation clear in his grave voice. _I can't fight it, Thorn… I **am** Morzan…_

Shaking with barely contained anger, the young Dragon let a low growl of frustration swell his chest, his strong jaws pressed tightly together as he stood.

Pushing his Rider's tired form off his flank with a violent swing of his tail, the huge, red beast snapped his jaws menacingly when Murtagh attempted to sooth him with his mind.

_How dare you…? _Thorn snapped, bending down to press his wide forehead to Murtagh's, a glint of fury in his ruby red eyes. _I chose you ! How dare you imply that… that **I **would **hatch **for a monster such as your father !? You insult me, Murtagh… saying things like you think you're not a real Rider… am I not a **real** Dragon to you !? What am I ? A lizard !? Are you so thick you can't even understand the meaning of this bond between us !? I have waited hundreds of years for someone worthy of me… I have waited hundreds of years… for you… and you… you just… you… _he trailed off, then, shaking with frustration as he searched for the right words.

_Thorn, I… _

_BE QUIET !!! _Thorn snapped again, trails of black smoke escaping from his flaring nostrils. _You **are** a Rider… you are **my** Rider ! And don't you dare tell me otherwise ! For I am not asking for your opinion there ! _

Beating the ground with his strong, thick tail, Thorn then proceeded to shove Murtagh back down onto the floor and drag a blanket of fur over him, gnarling all the way as he slowly made his way back to their spot against the wall and let himself slide back to the ground.

_Thorn…_ Murtagh sighed, looking up at his dragon with a mix of fondness and gratitude in his tired eyes.

_Murtagh. _his Dragon grunted, pressing the tip of his snout to the top of his Rider's head as a silent apology for his loss of temper.

_Thanks…_

…

Smiling weakly, his face buried in the soft feathers of Thorn's wing, Murtagh frowned slightly as Galbatorix's words came back to him…

'_I could kill you both in the blink of an eye. And of course, I would start with Thorn, just to make sure you feel the pain of losing a part of your own soul…'_

He was a Rider… that much was obvious.

But could he be strong enough to live up to Thorn's expectations…?

Could he be strong enough to live up to his own…

)))oOo(((

'Someone must have informed them of our arrival…' Murtagh said blankly, his eyes never leaving the map that was spread out in front of him.

Morning had come way faster than he had anticipated. His sleep had been agitated and he felt even more tired than he had before going to sleep.

Adding to that, he had been asked to attend the Officer's daily training session… by the end of his sparring with a strong, hot-headed young man from an apparently noble family but whose body strongly lacked practice, he was bored out of his mind and couldn't wait for Magdal to return from the castle to go take a flight with Thorn.

It had, indeed, been decided that, unless his two lieutenants were present to take care of matters in his absence, Murtagh couldn't leave the camp…

But though the young earl had been extremely quick to return, Murtagh wasn't given the opportunity to take Thorn out for his young lieutenant had returned with 'bad news'.

The Varden was on its way…

'Does that mean that there is a mole in our ranks ?'

'We'll take care of that later… for now let's just concentrate on the matter at hand…' Murtagh frowned. 'I heard that the Urgals had turned against us…'

'That's exact, sir' Magdal sighed. 'The King has been… acting a bit harshly… according to them…'

'You don't need to be so cautious around me, my earl…' the Rider grinned. 'The King has been acting like a troll, I'm quite aware of that, believe me… he is cruel and hot-headed… I am not fighting for him.'

Obviously confused by this revelation, Magdal tilted his head to look at his general's face.

'Who are you fighting for, then, sir ?'

Arching his neck to give Thorn a pointed stare over his shoulder, the young man let a small smile reach his expressive eyes.

'I'm fighting for the people of Alagaësia. I'm fighting to avoid a new slaughter... I'm here to make things even against the Varden…' he said, relieved to hear Thorn's heavy sigh as the huge beast nudged his back with his forehead. 'To fulfil my duty as a Rider…'

'I am glad to hear this…' Lucian spoke, for the very first time that morning. '…for as far as I am concerned, only the good of my people matters. I am with you, my lor… Murtagh.'

'Well, well, well…' Magdal smiled weakly, bending down to pick up a small, round stone from the sandy ground and place it on the map, a few inches over Aberon…

'They are here… and they are travelling very fast… They'll be there within the end of the week.' he said, his face growing more serious as he gave Murtagh a searching look. 'Our men are growing restless, my lord. I advise you don't display your opposition to the King in front of them… it would only make them even more confuse.'

Frowning slightly, Murtagh shook his head and placed his hands firmly on his knees.

'I refuse to lie about my loyalties.' He stated before he stood from his chair and took a few steps towards the opposite side of the tent.

He could feel his lieutenants' attentive eyes on his back… Thorn was sighing impatiently, eager to be done with the planning so they could get away for a while.

'We should set camp here… let them come to us.' the Rider said finally. 'Their journey will exhaust them… besides, we need time to prepare the men and arrange the catapults and ballistae…'

Finally embracing his role as a leader, Murtagh turned around to face his lieutenants and forced a confident smile on his lips.

'Magdal, you will go back the castle…' he said, smiling faintly as he saw the young man's shoulders drop slightly at the order. 'Tell him that we need the Twins…'

'The Twins, my lord?' Magdal inquired, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

'He should understand…take a few of you men with you this time. It would be reckless to wander the land alone in a time like this… ' Murtagh snorted. 'Lucian, you will stay here with me and help me prepare the men. I will meet you here by the end of the afternoon. For now, Thorn needs to eat, and I need to clear my mind before we get started with anything… gentlemen.'

Bowing his head courteously, he took a few steps towards Thorn's big head and jumped on his extended front leg before sliding into his saddle.

Eager to finally have some time alone with his Rider, the young Dragon growled enthusiastically, bracing himself on his muscled hind legs as he prepared himself to take flight, his scales shining brightly, dazzling the soldiers that had gathered around them, their ashen faces shining with excitement as they took in the sight of the huge Dragon stretching his red-feathered wings over his head with a kind of slow, vibrating purr of contentment.

_Are you done showing off, _Murtagh chuckled as he extended his marked hand to stroke the side of Thorn's neck.

_I'm not showing off… _Thorn claimed, finally pushing off the ground, batting his powerful wings, his long neck extended towards the clouds. _I'm giving them hope…_

_You're giving **me** hope… _Murtagh thought, letting his mind envelop his Dragon's as he absently gazed in the direction of Surda, a sad smile stretching his lips._ You are the little sparkle of hope in the intense darkness that threatens to swallow me…_

)))oOo(((

Done with chapter 8 !

The battle of the Burning Plains is coming up…

And Eragon will make is first appearance… after Eight looooonnnnng chapters.

Lol.

I'm not really happy with this chapter… but I needed a quick transition between Murtagh's life as Galbatorix's student and his role as a general in the King's army…

Good, I'm going to go get started with chapter 9 now… (it's partly done already… won't take long.)

Thanks again, guys, for all the reviews.

-iA


	9. Naligà'Saklauss

-1

**Title : **The pros and cons of breathing (9/?)  
**Author :** Amy Shinomori  
**Characters : **Murtagh, Galbatorix, Eragon, Saphira, Thorn.  
**Rating :** R.  
**Disclaimer :** Would I be there if I owned them ?  
**Warnings :** none yet… maybe slash, but you would have to squint very hard.  
**Notes :** Takes place after Murtagh's 'kidnapping' by the twins. Wrote this while listening to 'The pros and cons of breathing' by fall out boy. Dude, I have a life… just not right now .

Additional notes : yaaay, I lurv my beta xD (Beccaforever).

_The Pros and Cons of Breathing_

On the third day after his arrival in the camp, Murtagh woke up to the sound of horses whining and shouting voices.

Jumping up to is feet, he quickly slipped on his boots and crawled to the entrance of the cave, gesturing for Thorn to remain hidden in the shadows.

The sight that greeted his eyes as he peered outside left him grunting in frustration, his hands balled into tight fists by his sides.

_Damn…_

_I thought it would take them a lot longer, _Thorn hissed in his mind, feeling a knot of uneasiness form in the pit of his Rider's stomach through their bond.

Lower, on the opposite side of the plains, they could both see troops of men from the Varden, waving green and yellow flags high in the air as they slowly but surely made their way towards the King's army, their bright armours sparkling in the weak, orange light of a barely rising sun.

_It should have, _Murtagh snapped, gathering his belongings and gesturing for Thorn to follow him outside.

_Try to be discreet… we need to regain the camp and alert the men… _

Snorting to himself, Thorn snaked out of the cave and slithered through the rocks, his strong, reptilian body almost invisible in the semi-obscurity that covered the land as he made his way towards the top of the hill.

_Go straight to Lucian, _Murtagh instructed. _Give him the Varden's position and tell him to prepare the men for battle… I'll catch up with you as soon as I can… I need to make an approximation of their number…_

_Fine, _Thorn frowned. _But be careful… it wouldn't do to get yourself captured, or worst… killed… just before the battle. _

_Don't worry, _Murtagh reassured him. _I'll be fine. Off you go !_

)))oOo(((

'Their ranks have increased drastically… but they are still outnumbered.' Murtagh reported, weeping his sweaty forehead with the moist cloth that Magdal had given him.

They were walking through the camp, hastily making their way towards the Officer's tent… Lucian was already waiting at the entrance with Thorn.

As Murtagh approached his second, he remarked the grim look on his face and frowned.

'What…?' he groaned, discarding the cloth as he came to a halt to give Thorn a quick look over.

'The men are not ready yet, sir…' Lucian said darkly. 'They are lacking motivation… most of them were conscripted, they don't know what they are fighting for.'

'Truthfully…' Murtagh snorted. '… even I don't know what they are fighting for.'

'Sir…' Magdal protested, frowning disapprovingly as his young general disappeared inside the tent. 'Sir, you can't say such things in front of the men ! It could…'

'Enough Magdal…' Murtagh groaned. 'I know… please, go out and try to reassure the men.'

'Yes, sir…'

Rubbing a hand over his face, Murtagh waited until he heard Magdal exit the tent before letting himself drop in his seat.

'I am the worst general **_ever_**,' he said sternly, glaring down at the map of Alagaësia set in front of him.

'You've only been in charge three days, sir… and you've been doing pretty good for a man that has absolutely no experience in tactics.' someone said behind him.

Jumping slightly, the young Rider snapped his head up to stare at his second as he took a seat on the opposite side of the table.

'As you said, they are still outnumbered…and they are exhausted from their journey.' Lucian stated, 'Plus, we have something that they don't…'

'And what would that be…?' Murtagh asked with curiosity.

'You, sir… and your Dragon friend.'

Murtagh laughed then… a sharp, bitter laugh that brought no mirth to his red-rimmed eyes.

'They have a Rider, too, Lucian… and a greater one at that.' the young Rider smiled sternly. 'And…his Dragon is way bigger than Thorn.'

_Murtagh, _the latter warned from outside the tent, anger threatening to overwhelm him once again.

'Not according to our latest reports, sir.' Lucian grinned, for the very first time in days.

'What are you talking about, Lucian…?'

'Well, my general, my men came back from Surda, yesterday morning… and it would seem that the young Eragon had to interrupt his training with the elves in order to run to Nasuada's rescue…'

_Eragon's training is not complete… _Murtagh thought to himself… _Does it mean that…?_

'Moreover, sir… the Varden are unaware of your existence. Nasuada thinks that Eragon's presence will give them the advantage.'

'We have the advantage of surprise, then…' Murtagh frowned.

Standing up, his expression unreadable, the young Rider took a few steps towards the entrance of the tent where he knew Thorn was waiting impatiently.

'Let's use this to our benefit, shall we…' he grinned, then, turning around to face Lucian. 'I need to talk to the Twins…'

)))oOo(((

His eyes burning from the foul vapours that rose from the burnt ground of the plain, Murtagh furrowed his brows as he tried to see through the thick, grey smoke that covered the whole camp.

The Twins had chosen a tent that was placed at the southern extremity of the camp, directly facing the Varden's army… and Murtagh was tired of having to cross the whole camp every time he needed to discuss something with the two of them.

Only a mile separated them from Nasuada's army and the men were growing more restless every passing minute, throwing nervous glances at him as he made his way between their tents, Thorn following behind him at a slower pace, so as not to destroy everything on his way.

Upon arriving in front of the spell-casters' tent, Murtagh froze…

There was a huge black horse waiting at the entrance and Murtagh knew for a fact that the Twins' horses had been parked with his own behind the Officer's tent.

Bracing himself for an eventual confrontation, the young Rider threw back the flap of rough fabric that covered the entrance of the Twins' tent and stepped inside.

Inside the tent, the Twins were sitting together, hunched over a pile of tattered parchments, muttering to themselves…

_Nothing unusual there, _Murtagh smirked slightly.

'Murtagh, my friend… I've been dying to hear from you.'

His eyes widening slightly at the nauseating familiarity of the voice, Murtagh turned his head to the left…

…to find the King himself propped against a table, his arms crossed over his broad chest, a victorious grin stretching his chapped lips.

'Galbatorix…' the young Rider frowned, clenching his jaws to keep from latching himself at the King. '…what's bringing you here ?'

'Your incompetence is…' the man smiled amusedly, unfolding his arms to wave his white, elegant hands around. 'This… I see you are no better than your father with your leadership. You can't even take care of the men I have put under your responsibility…the fight hasn't started yet and your soldiers have already lost faith.'

Snickering maliciously, the old King of Alagaësia took a few steps towards his apprentice, extending a hand to grab his chin and force him to look him straight in the eyes. Snorting, Murtagh recoiled from him, as if the simple touch of that hand against his skin could make it peel off his body…

'Oh, Murtagh…' Galbatorix whined, faking affliction as he pulled his hand back. 'Your lack of faith pains me…'

'What do you want…?'

'I came to give you my directives…' said the King, growing serious once again. 'I want you to stay out of this fight, Murtagh.'

Confusion clear on his face, Murtagh went to protest but Galbatorix silenced him with a wave of his hand.

'I have a plan, Murtagh.' he hissed, his voice cold and steady. '…and I don't want you to blow it up by exhausting yourself over my men…'

'Our men.' Murtagh corrected.

'Whatever… You won't fight this battle, Murtagh. I want you to wait until Eragon comes to you. I want you to try and capture him and his Dragon.'

'No…' Murtagh shook his head, his eyes glaring daggers through the King's back.

'No…?' Galbatorix asked softly, slowly turning around to face him.

'I won't let you enslave Eragon the way you enslaved me…' the younger Rider growled, the anger vibrating through his deep voice making the Twins flinch in their seats.

'Leave us…' Galbatorix said, waving his hand at them, his eyes never leaving Murtagh's.

Gulping in unison, the spell-casters quickly gathered their parchments and fled the tent…

'You don't understand Murtagh…' the king hissed, narrowing his eyes as he felt the young Rider's attempt to shield his mind from him. 'I am not _asking_ you to do me a favour… I am giving you an _order_. And you know quite well that you don't have a choice in the matter…'

'I won't touch a hair of Eragon's head…' Murtagh growled.

Sighing exasperatedly, Galabtorix tilted his head down and threw up his hands in a gesture of resignation.

'You are leaving me no choice, Murtagh…' he said warningly. 'Believe me I would rather not do this, but it would seem that there is no other option left…'

Murtagh knew better, though… He knew that the King had known from the start… known that he would have to coerce him into fighting Eragon…

He had been waiting for him to rebel…

_Domià__Rauthr Wyrda…_

Blinding pin exploded behind his eyes as the King burst through his mental barriers.

'I have a very sad story to tell you, my young friend…'

'I don't care about your past, monster !' Murtagh exploded, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his knuckles to his temple, as if to reach inside his own head and pull the King out.

'Oh… not _my_ past, Murtagh… Your _future_…' Galbatorix smirked. 'A sad story, indeed… the story of two brothers… fighting on different sides of the same war.'

Crying out as he felt his own consciousness shattering under the King's relentless assaults, Murtagh fell to his knees, using the last ounce of his energy to push Thorn out of his mind to keep the King from hurting him.

_Murtagh ! _Thorn moaned, resisting with all his might but unable to disobey his Rider's command.

'Two brothers whose pasts are very different… two young men whose fates are linked yet…contradictory…'

_Stop it ! _Murtagh snapped in his mind, not trusting his voice as his whole body shook from the intense waves of pain the King was unleashing upon his soul. _Stop… talking…_

'You understand, then… don't you ?' Galbatorix grinned, obviously basking in the younger Rider's suffering. 'You don't want to face the truth, Murtagh… But it would make sense, wouldn't it…?'

'Get… get lost…'

'Yet… you don't want to hear it… why is that…?' the King furrowed his eyebrows, pretending to be looking for the answer to his own question.

Then, suddenly, Murtagh felt a last, mind-numbing jolt of pain pierce his skull before the King let him fall face down into the dirt that was covering the floor of the Twins' tent.

Unable to control his own thoughts, Murtagh gave a plaintive wail as he felt Galbatorix reach the one memory he didn't want him to see…

In a flash, his vision blurred…

Suddenly, he was watching himself from above… he was back in the middle of the desert, hunched over the blurry silhouette that was laying, motionless in the sand, sprawled on a thick blanket.

_Eragon, _he thought with an hint of a smile as he saw himself reach for the sleeping young man's forehead and press the moist palm of his hand against the blond's fevered skin.

'_shhh… it's alright,' _he heard himself mutter. _'I'm there__…'_

'_Don't leave…' _Eragon moaned softly, weakly grabbing his wrist to press Murtagh's cool hand against his burning cheek. '_Murtagh…_'

The Rider's skin was so soft and warm under his hand, his breath so moist and delicate as Murtagh slowly bent over to press a close-mouthed kiss to his damp forehead.

'_I couldn't leave you… even if I wanted to…'_

He remembered how his fingers were till tingling, hours later, when Eragon's fever finally broke… when his soft, clear blue eyes finally opened to meet his own… he could remember the obsessive longing he had felt, the burning need to just reach out and pull he boy's shivering body into his arms…

Too soon for his liking, the vision faded and Murtagh found himself back on the floor, in the Twins' tent, struggling to crawl back to his hands and knees…

'…how cute.' Galbatorix mocked, crouching down in front of him. '…we all have our secrets. Is this yours Murtagh…? Are so sick that you could fall in love with your own little brother ?'

'What…? I don't even have a…'

Trailing off as realisation slowly dawned on him, Murtagh felt his blood freeze in his veins.

'No…'

'Oh yes…' Galbatorix smirked viciously, pulling him up into a kneeling position by his collar. 'Didn't Eragon tell you his mother's name… Selena… does that ring a bell…?'

'It can't be…' Murtagh moaned, shaking his head in denial.

'Ahhh… I told you it was a _sad_ story.' said the King as he stood up, absently brushing dirt from his pants. 'I have to leave, now… I wouldn't want to be late for diner.'

Gloating openly at Murtagh's obvious distress, he took a few steps towards the exit before he turned on his heels and smiled down at his young apprentice.

'Oh, I almost forgot ! Seeing as you don't have a sword of your own, I want you to take Za'roc from your brother.' he said casually. 'For it is your rightful inheritance…'

)))oOo(((

Still numb from the shock, Murtagh weakly lifted himself from the floor and limped towards the entrance of the tent. Outside, he could barely make out Thorn's silhouette as he dragged himself towards his young friend.

Fortunately, the cocoon of pain he was caught in made it impossible for him to dwell upon Galbatorix's revelation…

_Take me away from here, _he pleaded as his hands finally made contact with Thorn's scaled neck.

Vibrating with a mix of anger and worry, his Dragon reached out, jaws parted slightly, and gently lifted him by the back of his shirt to install him in his saddle before letting loose a low growl of frustration and pushing off the ground.

Thorn then unfurled his huge red wings and batted them furiously, eager to reach their cave so he could just drop down onto the floor and curl himself around his broken Rider until the pain washed away…

_Eragon… he's my brother, _Murtagh stated, his face disturbingly blank as he pressed himself against the back of Thorn's neck.

_I know…_

_I'm going to be sick…_

Alarmed as he felt his young friend slid out of his saddle as he bent over his side to relieve his stomach, Thorn caught him just in time before he fell, his tail securely wrapped around the young man.

Upon arriving to the cave, Murtagh numbly let himself slide off his Dragon's back and dropped to the floor, lifting his knees to his chest and hugging them tightly, his face buried in the crook between them.

_He said my name…_

_I heard…_

_Rauthr Wyrda… misfortunate fate… _Murtagh laughed. _How fitting… _

_Murtagh…_

_We're doomed…_

_Murtagh, don't say that, _Thorn sighed, curling his long body around his Rider's hunched figure and wrapping his wing over him…

_I wish I could just let myself die…_

_Shhhh… it's going to be alright, I promise…_

)))oOo(((

Towards the end of the afternoon, Magdal dropped by to check on them. But Thorn, still wrapped around his Rider, refused to let the young earl approach until Murtagh had acknowledged his presence.

'My lord… I… I've been informed of your… confrontation with the King.' he said, trying to get his General's attention.

Unresponsive, Murtagh kept staring at a spot behind the earl, his blank gaze going right through him.

'Sir… I just wanted to know when you were planning to come back to the camp. The men keep asking questions about your sudden disappearance and… I don't know what to tell them…'

'Tell them I'm not coming back.'

Eyes widening in shock, the young earl took but one step in their direction before Thorn's heavy tail crashed in front of him, barring his path.

'Sir, what are you talking about !? You can't leave us now !' he protested, an edge of panic in his usually pleasant voice.

'King Galbatorix gave me my orders… I am to stay away from this battle.' Murtagh said dispassionately, letting Thorn cradle him closer against his side.

'But, sir, the men… we're all going to die out there, without you ! They have a Rider with them… we can't rival with a Rider.'

'The Twins will be there to protect you…' Murtagh snorted. 'I had already given them my directives…'

'Sir, this is unfair…'

'I don't make the rules, Magdal.' the Rider sighed, his eyes sad and resigned.

'Can't you go against his orders ? Surely, you are strong enough to defy him…'

'Sadly, no, my friend… I'm but a weak little puppet in the palm of his hand. You'll have to make do without me.' Murtagh said, burying his face in Thorn's wing. 'Go back to the camp now… tell Lucian he is in charge…'

After a while, his shoulders hunched over and his head bent low as he made his way back out of the cave, the young earl of Sharktooth sadly resigned himself to his fate.

Back inside, Murtagh squeezed his eyes tightly, rocking slightly against Thorn's flank as he fought back the urge to just curl into a tight ball and sob himself to sleep.

_How I wish you'd never met this Eragon, Murtagh, _Thorn whined softly. _He's brought you nothing but pain…_

_Had I not met him, I would never have crossed your path, Thorn…_

_I would have found you, eventually… we were meant to be, Murtagh… nothing could have kept me from finding you. If only you hadn't met him…_

Sighing again, Murtagh had to admit that a strong part of him agreed with him…

…the other part though…

…the other part would cherish the memory of the younger Rider until the day he died.

)))oOo(((

Murtagh did a lot of thinking that night, before he finally fell into a dreamless slumber.

His thoughts swirled into his head, the wheels in his mind constantly coming up with new conclusions, new possibilities.

He was trapped… still, he knew there had to be a loophole somewhere. There had to be a way to spare Eragon the predicament he had had to endure…

He turned and returned the problem until there was no angle left that he hadn't already explored. But still, his mind was racing, keeping him awake until his exhausted eyes couldn't remain open any longer.

But ss soon as he woke up, he knew…

Knew what he had to do…

_Galbatorix said he wanted me to _try_ and bring Eragon an Saphira back to the castle… very fine, I'll _try…

'My lord…'

Looking up from his knees, Murtagh let a small frown crease his brow when he saw Lucian standing at the entrance of their cave, his expression grimmer than ever.

Something in his second's stance made Murtagh's stomach knot with uneasiness.

'My lord, I have bad news…' Lucian said, turning something around in his hands.

'I am not in charge any more, Lucian… you don't have to report to me.' Murtagh cut him, turning back to grasp a jar of water and serve himself a drink.

'My lord, the Varden have poisoned our food and water-supplies…' his lieutenant reported nonetheless. 'Magdal is dead…'

Snapping his head up from the goblet of water he had been about to raise to his lips, Murtagh stared at his lieutenant in shock…

'What…' he asked, his voice weak as he suddenly recognised the item that Lucian was turning over and over in his large hands…

_The pendant Magdal had been wearing…_

'It's engraved with the earl's armorial bearings… he told me to give it to you. And to… thank you for your time…'

Bitterness hardening his already grim features, Lucian threw the necklace at him and turned on heels without so much as another glance in his direction.

'Lucian…' Murtagh called him.

Shaking with barely contained anger, the man turned around to face him once again.

'He was so eager to fight under your command… but he died before he even had the chance to raise his sword against the Varden…' Lucian growled, low in his throat. 'You have fooled us… you said that the Varden were too noble to resort to such felony.'

'Are you sure that it was the Varden's doing…?' Murtagh asked, shaking his head in disbelief, Magdal's pendant securely enclosed in the palm of his hand. 'I can't believe they would do such a thing…'

'Well… you'd better believe it… for the water you were about to drink is probably poisoned to.'

Without another word, Lucian slowly crossed the few steps that separated him from the entrance and disappeared outside.

_Magdal is dead…_ Murtagh repeated, turning the pendant over so he could see the coats of arms that were engraved into the gold…

Somehow, even though he hadn't known the young man for long, Murtagh had to blink his eyes a few times to keep the tears at bay at the thought of his dead lieutenant…

_He was so young… _

_Murtagh…_

_I can't believe Nasuada would do such a thing as poison innocent men in their sleep…most of the soldiers here were conscripted, they did not choose to fight for the king… she knows this…_

_If she really did caution such a vile act… then she's no better than Galbatorix_, Thorn barked.

_Thorn…_

_You know it's true ! This is cowardice, Murtagh… _

Groaning, Murtagh laced his fingers together and pressed his thumbs against his temples…

_I don't believe Eragon would caution such an act…_

_Don't be blind, Murtagh ! She couldn't have done anything without his consent… he's a Rider ! _

Feeling his heart tighten at the thought of his friend willingly sacrificing hundreds of innocent men, Murtagh stood up from the ground, hurriedly gathering his boots and weapons…

_Stay here, _he commanded. _I'm going to the camp to help Lucian reorganise the men._

)))oOo(((

When the battle finally broke out in the plain, Murtagh was already back in the caves, passing relentlessly in front of the entrance as he listened to his men's heart-rending wails of agony.

He felt helpless…useless as he waited for the right time to intervene.

His soldiers were, mostly, either too weak to fight or completely delirious. They cried out as they charged, their swords thrusting madly as they probably fought the urge to vomit or start weeping from the pain.

The poison Nasuada had used against them was strong… strong and deadly. There was just nothing he could do to heal them… and even if he had been strong enough to, there was just too many of them… and they had so little time.

Another agonizing wail vibrated through the air, making him want to just drop to his knees and pull on his hair until the pain was too strong for him to feel the nagging guilt that threatened to make him lose what little sanity he had left…

And through it all, he couldn't help but blame Eragon for not stopping Nasuada…

He could feel the adrenaline rising once again… his hands were literally itching at the prospect of the upcoming battle. Excited despite his frustration, Murtagh stopped passing and tried to make out the outlines of the Varden's camp through the thick smoke that covered the plains…

Someone had to pay… someone had to face the consequences of Nasuada's felony. But even he wouldn't dare raise a hand on a woman…

Eragon was the only one left to blame for this mess… and though Murtagh's heart ached for the boy, he knew, deep down, that anger was his last resort…

)))oOo(((

End of chapter 9... Well. Honestly, when I started writing this fic, I didn't think it would be more than 2 or 3 chapters. But well, I guess I got carried away lol.

I hope it's not becoming too boring… I am taking my time with the battle of the burning plains.

Oh and yeah, Someone just told me that they liked Magdal and Lucian... so... I'm sorry. But Magdal's death was something necessary... has to do with the following chapter.

The next chapter will probably be the last of this fic… but I'm already planning a sequel (or a second part maybe…) hehe.

Please, bear with me a little longer…

Next in 'TP/CB' : Eragon's first appearance, after 9 looooong chapters of idleness. Loool.

Ah by the way, I'm still wondering whether or not I should put some AU in the next chapter… what do you guys think ?

Anyway, thanks to all those who took some time to read and review this…

Have a very nice day ! (errr… I can't help it… sorry..)


	10. You have become your father'

**Title : **The pros and cons of breathing (10/?)  
**Author :** Amy Shinomori  
**Characters : **Murtagh, Galbatorix, Eragon, Saphira, Thorn.  
**Rating :** R.  
**Disclaimer :** Would I be there if I owned them ?  
**Warnings :** none yet… maybe slash, but you would have to squint very hard.  
**Notes :** Takes place after Murtagh's 'kidnapping' by the twins. Wrote this while listening to 'The pros and cons of breathing' by fall out boy. Dude, I have a life… just not right now .

**Additional notes :** Thanks again to Beccaforver for beta-reading this

_To be hurt  
To feel lost  
To be left out in the dark  
To be kicked when you're down  
To feel like you've been pushed around  
To be on the edge of breaking down  
And no one's there to save you  
No you don't know what it's like  
Welcome to my life_

_Welcome to my life…_

_The Pros and Cons of Breathing_

)))oOo(((

_You almost killed him…_

Crying silently as he kneeled over Lucian's broken body, Murtagh clenched his blood covered fists in the fabric of his friend's tunic… slaughtered by one of his own soldiers.

_Where's the glory in that…? Have you got no pride… are you really no better than Galbatorix, fighting from a distance, resorting to such treachery…?_

'Sir, we need to take him away!' someone said to his right.

Blinking rapidly, Murtagh looked up just enough to see a young man, even younger than Magdal had been, dressed in nothing but peasants clothes, bent down by his side and helped a big, burly man drag Lucian's motionless body from the battlefield…

Light-headed from the pain of seeing yet another friend fall in this pointless war, the young man gritted his teeth as he jerkily pulled himself up, his face blank and ashen, his bloodshot green eyes brimming in the light of the fire that had been set by the Varden's enflamed arrows.

Wherever he looked, he could see nothing but chaos and destruction. His men were running, disoriented, most of them too delirious to take whatever initiatives they needed to take.

…and Eragon was using their confusion to break through their mental defences and control them… to make them turn against their own acting-general.

_This is not a battle… this is butchery…_

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Murtagh could feel Thorn nodding sadly in agreement.

_This won't go unpunished…you won't get away with this felony…_

Growling low in his throat, the young Rider bent over to retrieve Lucian's bloodied axe, relishing in the delightful weight of it in the palm of his hand, the muscles in his shoulder tensing in anticipation…

'I'm borrowing this, my friend.' he said, a sad little smile quirking his lips…

…it did never reach his eyes though, for in this instant, they were as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a soulless puppet.

_You seem to think that the end justifies the means… _

_You seem to think that the people you are slaughtering aren't worth your compassion. You must think that they are evil… as evil as their monstrous leader._

Whirling his axe, his ink-black blood-soaked hair obscuring his pale features, Murtagh relaxed his jaw slightly, a bitter smirk stretching his reddened lips as his listless green eyes filled with grim determination.

_I'll give you a monster to fight, Eragon… you won't be disappointed._

His body still sore from his last encounter with Galbatorix, Murtagh released a wild battle cry and launched himself onto the battlefield, swinging Lucian's axe with a savage look on his face…

_Murtagh, _Thorn exploded, following suit behind his Rider, his jaws snapping and his claws tearing through their enemies' flesh as he went, his flamboyant red body snaking through the corpses as he charged the front line of Nasuada's army.

_We need to take off, Murtagh. I can see the blue Dragon less than a mile ahead, in that direction. _

Snapping his head up from the now beheaded corpse of a man twice his size, Murtagh snarled, his chest heaving with effort as he extracted his axe from the floor and slipped it into his belt before turning to face Thorn.

_Murtagh ! _a distant voice called out to him. _Hrothgar has joined Nasuada. The Dwarves are tearing through our ranks… we can't pierce through his mental barriers, his mind is too well guarded. _

Snorting at the Twins' display of incompetence, Murtagh gave Thorn a pointed look.

_Let's hurry…_

Reluctantly dragging himself away from the fight, Murtagh reached for the helmet that was firmly attached to Thorn's saddle and jumped onto his Dragon's back. He absently kicked his feet into the straps, feeling the huge beast beneath him brace itself on its strong hind legs and unfurl his wings.

They rose through a thick cloud of acrid smoke, their silhouettes obscured by the raging sun that shone behind them, making them both impossible to recognise from the ground.

With only the loud thudding of Thorn's flapping wings to betray their identity, they shot through the air with maddening speed, Murtagh's piercing eyes thoroughly searching the battlefield for any trace of Eragon's huge blue steed.

_Not now, Murtagh… We need to stop the dwarves before it's too late…_

_We can't take a whole army by ourselves, _Murtagh hissed. _Let's just get this over with… if I capture Eragon and Saphira, this fight is over…_

_Your men, Murtagh… Lucian and Magdal would have wanted you to protect them, you can't give up…_

Snarling in both anger and annoyance, the young Rider quickly sought the dwarf King out and raised his hand, palm down, towards him.

'Kyssa abr freohr…' he growled, a thick ray of sparkling red light bursting from his marked palm, piercing through the dark clouds, pausing only slightly, a few inches from Hrothgar's chest as Murtagh broke through the dwarf's spell casters' defences, before it struck him, right above his heart.

_You want to fight from a distance, Eragon…?…this is what you get for murdering Magdal from afar… _

His jaws working furiously as he listened to the dwarves' wails of grief echo through the plains, Murtagh lowered the barriers around his mind to let Thorn wrap himself around him protectively.

_Vengeance is not officially part of your duty as a Rider, Murtagh, _the Dragon snarled.

_This is not vengeance… this is retribution._

Grimacing slightly as he heard Saphira's vibrating growl of anger, Murtagh lowered his helmet over his face and braced himself for the upcoming battle, his hand twitching slightly as he unsheathed his long sword, his eyes never leaving Eragon as the younger Rider got into his Dragon's saddle and took off in their direction with wild cry.

_So, this is Eragon, _Thorn glowered. _This puny little human… this weakling…?_

_Enough, Thorn, _Murtagh grunted, his fist clenched around the pommel of his sword in determination.

But the pain in his heart ailed him, making him flinch and recoil from the prospect of this upcoming fight with Eragon…

Eragon, whom he knew was his brother… Eragon whose hatred he would never be ready to face… but he had to… for his men.

…and for Thorn.

How he wished he could just turn around and forget everything that had ever happened after his capture by those damned Twins…

_We'll be alright, Murtagh. Don't fear, I'll be by your side… always, _Thorn promised, growling low in his throat as he saw the Varden warriors looking up at the both of them with hateful eyes, pointing their menacing fingers at them…

_Traitor! Egg breaker, oath breaker, murderer! _

Bitter tears filling his eyes as he readjusted his helmet once again to hide his face and delay the confrontation, Murtagh gritted his teeth as he felt the sorrow numbing his heart slowly turn into despair…

That look of pure hatred and disgust distorting Eragon's usually friendly features froze the blood in his veins, made his stomach turn and his hands start to shake slightly.

_Murtagh, get a grip, you'll get yourself killed !_

Killed… Eragon was out to kill him…

_Murtagh…_

Eragon wanted to kill him…

Cold numbness spread through his chest then, calming his racing heart, steadying his grip on his sword, covering his eyes with a veil of dark grey. He let himself forget then… forget that Eragon had once been his friend… that he would have given up everything for the boy…

Forget that he didn't have a choice…forget that he didn't want to kill the boy…

Calmer than he had been in weeks, Murtagh bent down over his Dragon friend…

_Dive in, Thorn…_

_Yes…_

They both felt it then… Eragon's messy attempt to break through their mental defences…

_They are exhausted, _Thorn remarked.

_Hold back, then…_

_Murtagh, we can't ! They'll…_

_Thorn ! _

_Fine…_

Narrowing his eyes in concentration, Murtagh pulled back from Thorn's consciousness slightly before charging on Eragon's mind.

_Take care of Saphira…_ he commanded, clenching his jaws in annoyance as he felt the other Rider retreat deep within his own barriers and start to recite an odd scrap of doggerel.

Murtagh was about to pierce through the young man's defences when their two Dragons finally crashed together, roaring and clawing at each other, flapping their wings furiously to keep from falling towards the ground.

_Hold on, Murtagh, _Thorn exploded, struggling to keep the blue Dragon from untangling herself from his grasp.

Unable to keep flying any longer, the two beasts spread their wings wide to slow down their descent as they kept snapping their jaws, determined to throttle each other… his heart thundering against his chest with worry, Murtagh bent over to press himself over the back of Thorn's neck, pouring a great amount of his own strength into his Dragon…

When they finally disengaged, Murtagh quickly recited a few lines of an incantation to heal Thorn's scraped flanks.

_Murtagh ! Fire ! _

Jerking his head up just in time to see the tongues of fire that were bursting in their direction…

_skölir nosu fra brisingr! _he recited in his head, raising his palm slightly.

Relieved to see the fire bifurcate in front of them and slide along their sides harmlessly, Thorn took a deep breath, proudly puffing his large chest out.

_Thorn, what are you doing…? _Murtagh snapped. _Don't expose your chest like that, you'll…_

But words failed him as he saw the thick torrent of red flames that erupted from Thorn's widely parted jaws.

_Surprise ! _Thorn barked enthusiastically as he watched the conflagration shoot towards the enemy.

_Thorn, you… _

_I wanted to tell you, but… so much happened those last few days. I didn't have the time…_

Pride softening his bitter mood slightly, Murtagh reached out to stroke his young Dragon's neck, too ecstatic to pay much attention to the fact that Thorn's fire never hit it's target.

_Let's race them, _Thorn said, feeling more alive in this instant than he had in months.

_As you wish, my friend, _Murtagh smiled faintly, bending himself over his Dragon's neck as they shot through the air, their minds so tightly wrapped around each other that Murtagh could feel the cold wind sliding over their scales…

_**My** scales, _Thorn laughed. _You're not a Dragon Murtagh. _

_I feel like one when I'm with you ! _Murtagh grinned, adrenaline pounding through his veins as he took a look back at Eragon and Saphira.

_They can't keep up, _Thorn scoffed.

_They're tired… let's get back down. _

_Okay, _Thorn sighed, swiping his tail to change his direction.

Tearing through another cloud of dark smoke, the young red Dragon slowed down his pace until he could hear Saphira shoot past them. He then started flapping his wings enthusiastically to catch up with her and playfully nipped her tail.

_Gotcha ! _

_What are you doing, Thorn… _

_I'm… I… _

_This is not a game…_ Murtagh barked in his mind. _She's bigger than you are, you should be more careful._

_Yeah… big she is, _Thorn snickered, snapping his jaws at her again.

_Stop it ! _

Grunting with annoyance, Thorn slowed down his path slightly, snorting as Saphira executed a tight backward loop, ending up just behind them, and pivoting slightly to spiral over her.

_This is way better than training with Shurikan… _

_Thorn, Focus… _Murtagh scolded, stabbing at Eragon's consciousness with his mind. _Dive, now !_

'Catch me !' he heard Eragon yell, then.

_What is he doing !?_

Panic freezing his blood in his veins, Murtagh watched the younger Rider sever the straps around his legs and let himself drop from his saddle.

_Eragon ! _he cried out, his eyes wide with shock as he saw Eragon rush towards them, his limbs spread wide to stabilise his descent, Zar'roc in hand.

_Catch him, Thorn ! _

_No, he's going to kill you, _his Dragon snapped, diving left to keep Eragon from crashing into them.

_Thorn ! _Murtagh growled, taking over his friend's body, preventing him from diving fast enough.

In a flash, Eragon was on them, lashing out with Za'roc as he saw Thorn's exposed flank flash by.

White pain exploded through the young Dragon's flank, taking Murtagh completely off-guard… he had been about to extend his arm and grab Eragon when he felt his father's sword tear into his Dragon's flesh.

'Thorn !!!!' he cried out, feeling his friend's warm blood seep through his side, soaking the leg of his pants.

Thorn roared in agony, his head spinning, his mind racing as he tried to keep his injured body from crashing to the ground.

_Murtagh, _he moaned plaintively. _Murtagh, are you alright…?_

_I'm fine, Thorn, _his Rider hissed with concern…_we need to land so I can take care of your wound. _

_I can fight… _

_I know you can… let me just check on you. Then we can resume this battle…_

_Yeah…__I'm going to make them land too… _

Roaring menacingly, he folded his wings by his sides and dived in, wincing slightly as he felt the cold wind bite into his wounded flesh.

He hurtled at Saphira from above, harrying her this way and that as he forced her toward the ground. Saphira tried to manoeuvre out from under him, but every time she did he dove at her, biting and buffeting her with his wings in order to make

her change course. The dragons twisted and lunged until their tongues lolled out of their mouths, their tails drooped, and they gave up flapping and merely glided.

_Land, Thorn, you've lost too much blood, _Murtagh commanded, his voice thick with worry.

Nodding his head in resignation, the red Dragon detached himself from Saphira and let himself hurry after her towards the ground.

He landed barely a few seconds after her, on the other side of the plateau, clenching his jaws to keep a pained groan from escaping his mouth as his sore body finally made contact with the ground. He held his left hind leg off the ground to avoid aggravating his wound : a long, angry gash that nearly severed the muscle. Thorn trembled his entire length, like an injured dog. He tried to hop forward, then stopped and snarled at Eragon.

_Don't move, Thorn, _Murtagh scolded. _Let me take a look. _

The gash was deep and blood was flowing from the huge wound, already soaking the dry ground of the plateau.

Seething with barely contained anger, Murtagh tilted his head to glare at Eragon before he positioned both his hands over the wound and started an incantation…

'Heill Likami, heill sàl !' he chanted softly.

No sooner had he said the words that he felt an intense wave of warmth wash over the both of them, instantly knitting Thorn's tissues back together, leaving no trace of the wound on his flank and hind leg.

_Thank you, _Thorn sighed, feel the soothing warmth wrap itself around him…

_I'm sorry, it was my fault. _Murtagh apologised. _I let my emotions get the better of me…_

_It's alright, Murtagh… let's get this over with…_

Snarling under his helmet, Murtagh turned around and stepped forward to meet Eragon in the centre of the plateau.

_I remember a time when I would have been delighted to see you again, Eragon, _Murtagh thought to himself. _Now I just wish you hadn't come… _

Bracing himself, Murtagh unsheathed his long sword and swung it over his head towards Eragon. But the boy was fast… he lifted Zar'roc's ruby-red lame and blocked his blow, their swords crashing together in a burst of crimson sparks. They engaged in a complex series of moves then and Murtagh had to admit that Eragon was not as exhausted as had thought. He let him advance on him, smiling sadly as he let the memories of their first sparring session resurface.

It had been so good to finally find someone that matched his skills in both swordsmanship and stamina.

But though he now had the agility and strength of an elf, Eragon was no longer skilled enough…

_What did they do to him, _he wondered. _His face… he looks like… like an elf…?_

When they reached the edge of the plateau, Murtagh stood his ground, using his sharp mind to anticipate Eragon's every move. They kept exchanging blows for some time and Murtagh marveled at how agile Eragon had become…

_Murtagh, stop playing around… focus, _Thorn scolded.

_It's like… he's exhausted, I can't just… just… _

_He'll kill you if you keep holding back… _

_And then…? _

Growling menacingly, Thorn snapped his jaws at him, his strong tail beating the ground as he circled around them with Saphira.

Slowly but surely, Murtagh pushed Eragon back towards the centre of the plateau. One step at a time. He could see Eragon's chest heave with effort as he slowly lost the last remnant of his energy. He was gasping for air, sweat pouring off his face as he used the last of his strength trying to parry one of Murtagh's lateral blows.

Murtagh was now frowning under his helmet, trying hard to not let his feelings get in the way of what he knew he had to do but failing miserable, holding back every time his blade made contact with Eragon's breast-plate.

Sighing interiorly, he watched as the exhausted young man slipped and fell, face down into the dust. He tried to roll over and stab him in the leg with Zar'roc, but Murtagh gave a soft snort and knocked the red lame aside with a lazy flick of his wrist.

He then flourished his sword, spinning it in a quick circle by his side, just to see if Eragon would recognise the move.

And he did… oh yes, he did…

'I know you !' he cried out, his eyes widening in horror as he focused his eyes on Murtagh's.

The younger man threw himself at him, then, reaching for his helmet and tearing it from his head…

…Murtagh let him, fighting hard to keep his anxiousness from showing on his face.

Eragon's surprise quickly melted into disgust as he let his hands fall back to his sides.

His whole face contorted, obviously torn between shock and revulsion…

Murtagh felt something crack deep inside his heart and his whole body tensed.

Still, he gave a short snort and let a grin stretch his lips as he raised his hand, the palm of it facing Eragon.

'Thrysta vindr' he muttered, and a hard ball of air coalesced between them and struck Eragon in the middle of his chest, tossing him twenty feet across the plateau.

Murtagh grimaced, then, taking a deep breath to recompose himself while Eragon rolled into a tight ball and waited for the pain to recede.

Calming his shaking limbs with a few words in the ancient language, Murtagh felt his chest tighten as he watched Eragon squirm on the floor.

Lowering his sword, he then pointed at Eragon with his steel-encased hand, curling every finger but his index into a spiny fist.

'You never would give up.' he said, fighting the urge to just cross the twenty feet that separated them and drop to his knees to help Eragon in a sitting position.

Pushing himself to his feet, he coughed and said, 'Murtagh... how can you be alive? I watched the Urgals drag you underground. I tried to scry you but saw only darkness.'

Murtagh uttered a mirthless laugh. 'You saw nothing, just as I saw nothing the times I tried to scry you during my days in Urû'baen.'

He felt bad for the boy, he looked so lost and confused…

_But definitely not relieved to see me, _Murtagh growled to himself.

_What were you expecting, _Thorn hissed back. _I told you he wouldn't care…_

_Not now, Thorn…_

'You died, though!' shouted Eragon, almost incoherent, unaware of Murtagh's silent conversation with his dragon. 'You died under Farthen Dûr. Arya found your bloody clothes in the tunnels.'

A shadow darkened Murtagh's face. 'No, I did not die. It was the Twins' doing, Eragon. They took control of a group of Urgals and arranged the ambush in order to kill Ajihad and capture me. Then they ensorcelled me so I could not escape and spirited me off to Urû'baen.'

His winced slightly as Eragon shook his head in disbelief.

'But why did you agree to serve Galbatorix? You told me you hated him. You told me--'

'Agree!' Murtagh laughed again, and this time his outburst contained an edge of madness. 'I did not agree. First Galbatorix punished me for spiting his years of protection during my upbringing in Urû'baen, for defying his will and running away. Then he extracted everything I knew about you, Saphira, and the Varden.'

He gave another sharp bark of laugh then, the growing pain threatening to make his heart burst out of his chest as he watched Eragon's soft eyes harden…

'You betrayed us!' he cried 'I was mourning you, and you betrayed us!'

'Mourning me ! Who are you kidding, Eragon… you didn't even try to rescue me from the Urgals ! I risked my life for you and you… you let me down !' Murtagh exploded, his pain clear on his face, contorting his features as he glared down at his former friend.

Eragon gaped at him, visibly unable to some up with an answer to his accusations.

'I had no choice.' Murtagh continued.

'Ajihad was right to lock you up. He should have let you rot in you cell, then none of this--'

'I had no choice!' snarled Murtagh. 'And after Thorn hatched for me Galbatorix forced both of us to swear loyalty to him in the ancient language. We cannot disobey him now.'

'You have become your father.'

For an instant, it felt as if Murtagh's heart had stopped beating. His blood was frozen in his veins from the shock and his whole body seemed to be refusing to obey him.

He wanted to cry then… he wanted to fall to his knees and sob and pull his hair out and scream until it was all over, until the disgust disappeared from Eragon's features and the hatred from his cold, sharp voice.

Instead, he just stood there, unable to cope with the pain any longer…

_Murtagh, _Thorn called out to him. But his voice was weak, too weak to be heard over the deafening thundering of his heart.

A door cringed then, and broke inside of him, unleashing something he hadn't known was there… something dangerous, something cold and powerful.

'No, not my father' he said, his voice calm and steady. 'I'm stronger than Morzan ever was. Galbatorix taught me things about magic you've never even dreamed of... Spells so powerful, the elves dare not utter them, cowards that they are. Words in the ancient language that were lost until Galbatorix discovered them. Ways to manipulate energy... Secrets, terrible secrets, that can destroy your enemies and fulfil all your desires.'

He stopped then, a strange numbness enveloping him. But unlike the numbness he had felt after Magdal's death, this one was like a soothing blanket being wrapped around his broken soul, gently shielding him from the cold hatred burning behind Eragon's eyes, holding him together.

'Things that should remain secret…' Eragon said softly.

'If you knew, you would not say that.' he heard himself retort. 'Brom was a dabbler, nothing more. And the elves, bah! All they can do is hide in their forest and wait

to be conquered.'

Then, after giving Eragon a quick once over, he added.

'You look like an elf now. Did Islanzadí do that to you?' When Eragon remained silent he smiled and shrugged. 'No matter. I'll learn the truth soon enough.' He stopped, frowned, then looked to the east.

_Murtagh, _Thorn called him, worried by the distant look on his Rider's face. _Murtagh don't block me from your thoughts, please, answer me…_

But the young Rider just heaved a sigh, losing himself in the observation of the Twins as they struggled to break the last of the Varden's defenses…

The curtains of smoke made it difficult to tell, but he could see the hairless magicians grinning and laughing as they slaughtered the men with whom they once pledged solemn friendship.

'Those two bastards…' he said, then, regaining part of his wits as he snorted in disgust at the obvious unfairness of the fight between them and the Dwarves…

Then, a small grin broke on his face as he noticed a silhouette creeping in their direction from the side. A man, probably as tall as he was but somewhat broader in the shoulder, was silently making his way towards them, hammer in hands…

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Eragon open his mouth, as if to cast a spell, and raised his hand to stop him.

'Wait, I want to see what he'll do…'

'Why…?' Eragon asked suspiciously.

A bleak smile crossed Murtagh's face. 'The Twins enjoyed tormenting me when I was their captive.'

Eragon glanced at him, suspicious. 'You won't hurt him? You won't warn the Twins?'

'Vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal.' _Upon my word as a Rider._

Together they watched as Roran hid behind a mound of bodies. He jumped up then,

swung his hammer and bashed one of the Twins in the head, cracking open his skull. The remaining Twin fell to the ground, convulsing, and emitted a wordless scream until he too met his end under Roran's hammer.

Then, Roran planted his foot upon the corpses of his foes, lifted his hammer over his head and bellowed his victory.

'What now…?' Eragon asked him, turning to face him once again. 'Are you here to kill me…?'

'Of course not !' Murtagh growled… then, as an afterthought, he lied. 'Galbatorix wants you alive…'

_It's Saphira that he wants… you could kill him_, Thorn growled.

'What for…?' Eragon inquired.

'You don't know…?' Murtagh hid his indecision behind a small smirk, but once again, it did not reach his tired eyes. 'Ha! There's a fine jest. It's not because of you; it's because of her. The dragon inside Galbatorix's last egg, the last dragon egg in the world, is male. Saphira is the only female dragon in existence. If she breeds, she will be the mother of her entire race.'

Taking a deep breath too steady himself, Murtagh let a blank mask of indifference cover his face.

'Do you see now…? Galbatorix doesn't want to eradicate the dragons. He wants to use Saphira to rebuild the Riders. He can't kill you, either of you, if his vision is to become reality... And what a vision it is, Eragon.' he continued, his own words making him want to gag. 'You should hear him describe it, then you might not think so badly of him. Is it evil that he wants to unite Alagaësia under a single banner, eliminate the need for war, and restore the Riders?'

_What the devil are you talking about, Murtagh ! _Thorn erupted inside his mind, his anger almost palpable as the young Dragon mentally shook him to make him snap out of whatever trance he was in.

Murtagh couldn't quite believe it himself… the words he was speaking were completely alien to him. He was not speaking his mind, he was listening to himself lie blatantly about his true opinions.

Growling with frustration, Thorn jumped and swung his tail in the hair furiously, thus attracting Saphira's attention on him.

_Stop jumping around, fool, _she said. _You are not achieving anything…_

_Galbatorix is controlling him ! And I can't do anything to help him ! What do you want me to do, you pig !? _

Visibly exceeded, Saphira snapped her muscled jaws at him, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

_Traitor, _she burst out, _oath breaker ! How dare you speak to me directly ! _

_Hypocrite, _Thorn bellowed. _You know nothing of what we had to endure… _

_I know that your Rider is a bloody traitor, like his father… and that you were too weak to make him honour his duty as a Dragon Rider ! _

_Loesa! Murtagh is stronger and more righteous that your Rider will ever be! You are the traitors, the cowards who poisoned our food and killed us from afar ! _Thorn roared, latching himself at Saphira.

The two dragons rolled over in the dirt, clawing at each other while their Riders were obviously too caught up in their own misery to stop them.

_Thorn, stop, _Murtagh groaned absently as he watched Eragon's face contort in a mix of anger and despair.

'I can understand that you were compelled to act against your will and that you aren't responsible for killing Hrothgar. You can try to escape, though. I'm sure that Arya and I could devise a way to neutralize the bonds Galbatorix has laid upon you... Join me, Murtagh. You could do so much for the Varden. With us, you would be praised and admired, instead of cursed, feared, and hated.' Eragon pleaded, his eyes shining from the tears that had gathered at the corner of his lids.

Murtagh felt a heavy weight lift from his heart as he felt Eragon's concern seep through his shaky voice. The relief was short-lived though, for he knew that even though Eragon's words were kind and soothing, there was just nothing the young man could do for him as it was…

For a moment, as Murtagh gazed down at his notched sword, Eragon hoped he would accept.

But then Murtagh said in a low voice, 'You cannot help me, Eragon. No one but Galbatorix can release us from our oaths, and he will never do that... He knows our true names, Eragon... We are his slaves forever.'

He watched then as Eragon's confusion slowly turned to sympathy…

With the utmost gravity, he said, 'Then let us kill the two of you.'

His eyes going wide with shock, Murtagh felt his heart shrink and break once again…

For a long moment, he seemed to consider this option, but then felt a strong jolt of pain in his mind as Thorn detached himself from Saphira to break into his defences with a forbidding howl.

_Kill us ? We're stronger than this Murtagh ! Only cowards chose the easy way out ! _

'Kill us…?' he repeated. 'Why should we allow that?'

Eragon chose his words with care : 'It would free you from Galbatorix's control. And it would save the lives of hundreds, if not thousands, of people. Isn't that a noble enough cause to sacrifice yourself for?'

Yet, Murtagh shook his head with renewed vigour as he felt Thorn lace their mind together once again. 'Maybe for you, but life is still too sweet for me to part with it so easily. No stranger's life is more important than Thorn's or my own.'

He didn't know what exactly had changed in him during this fight with Eragon and Saphira, but he wanted to live, more that he ever had…

And more than that, he didn't want die by Eragon's hands, however poetic that would seem.

_Sappy, _Thorn corrected, snorting haughtily as he watched Saphira glare at him.

Eragon jumped then, launching himself at Murtagh, obviously intending to stab him right through his heart.

_I told you, _Thorn groaned, feeling Murtagh's heart give another sinister crack in his mind. _Just knock him out already. Do it, or I will._

Exceeded, Murtagh barked : 'Letta !'

Eragon dropped back to the ground as invisible bands clamped around his arms and legs, immobilizing him. To his right, Saphira discharged a jet of rippling fire and sprang at Murtagh like a cat pouncing on a mouse.

'Rïsa!' commanded Murtagh, extending a claw-like hand as if to catch

her.

Saphira yelped with surprise as she felt herself being lifted from the floor, unable to break free from the millions of red tendrils that wrapped themselves around her body.

_Thorn, come over here, _Murtagh said.

_Yes, _Thorn nodded, hurriedly making his way towards him.

_Help me hold them in place…_

'Brakka du vanyalí sem huildar Saphira un Eka!' Eragon barked, trying to break free from his grasp.

Murtagh made no attempt to stop him, only gave him a flat stare, as if he found Eragon's resistance a pointless inconvenience. Baring his teeth, Eragon redoubled his efforts. His hands went cold, his bones ached, and his pulse slowed as the magic sapped his energy.

In two minutes, Murtagh felt the last of Eragon's and Saphira's strength desert them as they struggled to sever the binds he had conjured.

A thick vein was pulsing on the side of his neck, but it didn't seem to affect him.

Finally, Eragon was forced to release the magic. He sagged then, utterly spent as Murtagh walked up to him, pointing his sword at the young man's neck and pricking his skin, impressed when Eragon resisted the impulse to flinch.

'You cannot hope to compete with me," said Murtagh. "No one can, except for Galbatorix.' he said, his voice dispassionate as he let his weary eyes rest on Eragon's shivering form.

'It would be so easy to take you back to Urû'baen.'

He shivered involuntarily as Eragon gazed into his eyes…

'Don't…' he said softly, obviously trying to appeal to Murtagh's softer side. 'Let me go…'

_Does he know…? _Murtagh asked himself. _Does he know that he could probably ask me anything with those eyes looking at me like this…_

_Murtagh, be strong, it's almost over, _Thorn came to the rescue, wrapping his mind around him like a blanket of unconditional trust and love… _be strong…_

'You just tried to kill me…' he said, with a touch of disbelief in his voice.

He knew he sounded much younger than he was, right then, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes searching Eragon's for any trace of that concern he had shown earlier.

'And you would have done the same in my position' Eragon said softly.

_That's where you're wrong… _Murtagh thought bitterly, averting his eyes from him. _I would dig out from my chest my heart for you._

'We were friends once. We fought together. Galbatorix can't have twisted you so much that you've forgotten... If you do this, Murtagh, you'll be lost forever.' Eragon continued…

A long minute passed where the only sound was the hue and cry of the clashing armies. Blood trickled down Eragon's neck from where the sword point cut him. Saphira lashed her tail with helpless rage.

Murtagh absently watched the trickles of crimson liquid roll over Eragon's golden skin, longing to just latch himself onto him and wrap his arms around him.

Instead, he just looked back up into his eyes, staring at him with an intense gleam in his gaze, as if trying to pierce his soul and find a solution to all his problems there. Blushing faintly, he remarked how beautiful Eragon was, his golden hair glowing in the orange light of a dying sun, his warm blue eyes brimming slightly, his lips slightly chapped from the heat.

Averting his eyes once again, he looked over at Thorn for support…

Thorn knew… Thorn accepted him for who he was… Thorn was his sanctuary… he wouldn't let him down… Murtagh couldn't betray him.

Yet, he couldn't help but release his grip on the boy, shaking his head softly as he sheathed back his sword.

'I was ordered to try and capture you and Saphira." He paused. "I have tried... Make sure we don't cross paths again. Galbatorix will have me swear additional oaths in the ancient language that will prevent me from showing you such mercy when next we meet.'

Eragon crashed to the ground then, heaving a deep sigh of relief, his eyes never leaving Murtagh's tortured features.

"You're doing the right thing," he said. He tried to step back but was still held in place.

'Perhaps. But before I let you go…' Reaching out, Murtagh pried Zar'roc

from Eragon's fist and unbuckled Zar'roc's red sheath from the belt of Beloth

the Wise.

'If I have become my father, as you said…' he snarled, his voice once again harsh and bitter, his eyes full of pain and resent. '…then I will have my father's blade. Thorn is my dragon, and a thorn he shall be to all our enemies. It is only right, then, that I should also wield the sword Misery. Misery and Thorn, a fit match. Besides, Zar'roc should have gone to Morzan's eldest son, not his youngest. It is mine by right of birth.'

Struggling to understand Murtagh's cryptic words, Eragon furrowed his brow.

A cold pit formed in his stomach as realisation slowly dawned on him... It couldn't be.

A cruel smile appeared on Murtagh's face.

'I never told you my mother's name, did I? And you never told me yours. I'll say it now: Selena. Selena was my mother and your mother. Morzan was our father. The Twins figured out the connection while they were digging around in your head. Galbatorix was quite interested to learn that particular piece of information.'

'You're lying!' cried Eragon, his face a strange mix of disbelief and disgust.

'How does it feel to be me, Eragon.' Murtagh snarled. 'How does it feel to be ashamed of your own birth…? Tell me…'

Murtagh merely shook his head and repeated his words in the ancient language…

Then, taking a few hasty steps towards Eragon, he grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him until their chests collided. Putting his lips to his brother's ear, he whispered, in a soft, gentle voice. 'You and I, we are the same, Eragon. Mirror images of one another. You can't deny it.'

'You're wrong,' growled Eragon, struggling against the spell. 'We'r nothing alike. I don't have a scar on my back anymore.'

White pain shot through Murtagh's chest as he felt the younger Rider struggling to get away from his as fast as he could, as if his touch burned him. His eyes burned, his whole body ached to just envelop Eragon in his arms and never let go…

But Eragon's words stunh him like needles piercing to the bottom of his haunted soul…

He took a step back, then another, until he could see Eragon watch him with a mixture of revolt, confusion and regret in his gentle blue eyes…

His face going hard and cold, he lifted Zar'roc and held it upright before his chest. 'So be it. I take my inheritance from you, brother. Farewell.'

Then he retrieved his helm from the ground and made his way towards his Dragon.

'Murtagh, wait !' Eragon cried out, limping after him as he reached out to pull the other man back by his elbow.

'Don't touch me, Eragon !' Murtagh pleaded softly, refusing to look him in the eye.

Pulling his hand back, the young Rider circled around him to meet his eyes.

'Why…?' he asked, his hands clenched at his sides. 'Tell me it's not true, Murtagh… tell me you just made this up to spite me…'

'Sadly, no, Eragon… I'm afraid you'll have to live with the shame of having a traitor as a father… and a monster as a brother.' Murtagh laughed bitterly.

'You're not…' Eragon began, but then stopped himself, realising that he didn't really know what he was talking about anymore.

Biting hard onto his lower lip to keep himself from saying something that he would probably regret, Murtagh tilted his head back up to look at Eragon, tears brimming in his eyes. He fought to hold them back, swallowing back the lump in his throat, but couldn't keep a few of them from rolling down his pale cheeks.

'I'm sorry, Eragon… I really am.' he said softly. 'All I wanted was to protect you… all I wanted was… was to be a good friend for you. I wanted to help you, I really did. But I failed you… and for that, I apologise. But you don't understand… you don't know what it's like to be me. I've spent all my life alone… everyone I really cared about died. Mother, Tornac… but now, I have Thorn. And though I can't bear the thought of serving under Galbatorix, I feel more alive right now than I ever did…'

Shaking his head sadly, he closed his eyes and let his Dragon's consciousness wash over him.

'I won't let anyone tear us apart… not even you.' he said, letting his eyes travel back to Eragon's face. 'After eighteen years of fear, pain and rejection, I have gained the right to be selfish… just this once… Thorn is the best thing that's ever happened to me… I won't let him down…'

_Murtagh, _Thorn whispered softly in the back of his mind. _Thank you…_

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Morzan's eldest son took one step in his brother's direction and hugged him fiercely before he tore himself from the boy and went back to his Dragon.

_Please hold me back, Thorn… I swear, I'm not strong enough for this. _

_You are way stronger than you think, Murtagh, _Thorn sighed, arching his long neck to rub their foreheads together. _I love you, my friend… do never forget that. _

Smiling through his tears, his back turned on his brother, Murtagh jumped onto Thorn's saddle and fastened the straps around his legs as the young Dragon crouched, stretched his wings high above his head and pushed himself off the ground.

'Murtagh…' he heard Eragon murmur behind him as they took off.

'I only wish it didn't have to end like this…' Murtagh whispered to himself as he rested his forehead against the back of Thorn's scaled neck with a deep sigh. 'I wish you could understand…'

)))oOo(((

Long chapter, neh ? lol

So… I was planning to end it there… I don't know, eerfff… I feel like I have accomplished nothing at all…

I decided to not kill Lucian at the last minute lol. So, he'll live another day. Until I lose the last remnants of my sanity and start killing everyone off… lol.

Not gonna happen…

I wanted to bring them together, damn it ! I am SOOOO frustrated now xD

I decided to stick to the book ('til the end of this chapter, that is…). Now, if I decide to continue… ah god… --. I guess I'll just go to sleep for now…

_Kyssa abr freohr : the kiss of Death._

_Loesa : shut up!_

_ah well, I may switch from Old Norse to Gaelic from now on... well, we'll see.  
_

Also, I'd like the thank all those who took some time to review on this (be it on or on LJ). You guys are the best ! I mean, come on ! 51 reviews in 10 days ? I think I had never had so many reviews lol. This is very encouraging ! I hope you guys are still enjoying this as much as I am lol. You guys rockzor (copyright Riotfox311 xD, schmoodles you !)


	11. I'll do what has to be done

-1

**Title : **The pros and cons of breathing (11/?)  
**Author :** Amy Shinomori  
**Characters : **Murtagh, Galbatorix, Eragon, Saphira, Thorn.  
**Rating :** R.  
**Disclaimer :** Would I be there if I owned them ?  
**Warnings :** none yet… maybe slash, but you would have to squint very hard.  
**Notes :** Takes place after Murtagh's 'kidnapping' by the twins. Wrote this while listening to 'The pros and cons of breathing' by fall out boy. Dude, I have a life… just not right now .

err, well, no beta for this part xD (I just didn't want to bother my beta-reader again oO (yeah, I'm weird like that)).

_The Pros and Cons of Breathing_

_Stop it…_

_Stop what…?_

_Stop staring at the door… they're on their way._

_I'm not staring._

Snorting in amusement at his Rider's obvious lack of patience, Shruikan wagged the tip of his tail in the air, his huge, amber eyes gazing intently as he took in the man's clenched jaw, in the deep frown that was creasing his brow.

_You look like a worried mother-hen, _he mocked.

_That's quite enough, Shurikan. _

_I can't help commenting on this… unusually agitated state of mind you're in. Are you so preoccupied by the boy's well-being…?_

_I have big plans for him… _

_Big plans like the ones you had for his father…, _questioned the huge, black Dragon, his voice still slow and steady but mocking nonetheless.

_Shut your ugly mouth, Dragon! I don't want to hear anymore from you!_

_Ha! Sensitive subject, heh, Galbatorix… _Shurikan chuckled softly. _It must be sooooo painful… just to look at him. He looks so much like Morzan… this same, luscious black hair, those same intense green-eyes, piercing right to the bottom of that dark soul of yours… So much like his father, indeed. _

_Shurikan!_

…_do you feel it, Galbatorix…? The pain… or is your heart as cold and lifeless as your long lost soul-mate…?_

_ENOUGH !!!_

Growling low in his throat as he felt Galabtorix's consciousness collide with his own, Shurikan retreated into his mind with a weak, tortured bark of laugher…

_No matter how hard you try to bring him back, you can never have Morzan by your sides again… not even through his son. _

_We shall see, _Galbatorix hissed, his whole body tensing as he heard the sound of heavy footsteps echoing through the corridors.

_One day, Galbatorix… one day, your young hatchling will crush you under his boot without so much as a glance in your direction. And I won't do a thing to stop him…_

)))oOo(((

Upon entering the room, Murtagh felt his hand start to shake slightly… he could practically taste the King's mixed emotions on the air.

He was in for a hell of a sermon, he knew… but surprisingly, he could feel no anger radiating from the room. Frustration, impatience, disappointment… and something he would have never, ever, associated with the King…

…relief.

Swallowing through the lump in his throat, Murtagh took a deep breath to calm himself and pushed the door open, wincing slightly as he heard Shurikan scoff inside…

'Murtagh…' Galbatorix acknowledged him with a short nod and gestured for him to cross the room and come stand in front of him.

Taken aback by the obvious lack of malice in the King's gaze, Murtagh complied with the man's wordless command, his face as blank and expressionless as he could manage.

'I see you are not severely harmed… that's a good thing.' said the King, standing up from his throne and crossing his arms over his chest before he continued. 'I was worried that that… nasty temper of yours had gotten you into troubles again…'

Frowning suspiciously, the young Rider clenched his jaw to keep a smart retort from escaping his mouth.

'However… I can't really say I'm satisfied with the way you executed the task I gave you…'

'I followed your orders…' Murtagh retorted dryly. 'You wanted me to _try_ and capture the other Rider and his Dragon… well, I _tried_.'

'You're being insolent, Murtagh…' the King warned, his cold brown eyes narrowing slightly as he heard the touch of defiance in the younger man's voice. '…anyway, let's drop the subject for now. Is your Dragon injured…?'

'No, sir…'

_What is **wrong **with him…?_

'Hmm, good…' Galbatorix commented absently, gesturing for a guard to join them in the centre of the large room. 'Take my young apprentice to his new quarters. And make sure that food is delivered for him and his Dragon.'

'Aye, sire…' the guard nodded, turning to Murtagh. 'Follow me, young sir…'

'Wait-wait…!' Murtagh frowned, his eyes frantically searching Galbatorix's grim face for any sign of treachery. 'You mean you're not going to… hmm… punish me for my failure…?'

Smiling sadly, the King unfolded his arms and laced his fingers behind his back.

'Well… I do believe that you have had your share of torment for today.' he said slowly. 'I've had echoes of Magdal's demise… I'll let you mourn your lieutenant in peace…'

_You know what it's like, don't you… losing your right-hand man, _Shurikan hissed in his ear.

Ignoring him, Galbatorix shook his head softly to clear his thoughts.

'We'll talk about this tomorrow, Murtagh… now leave before I change my mind.'

)))oOo(((

_How did it go, _Thorn asked cautiously, surprised to find his Rider in such good shape.

_He didn't ask anything… he just let me regain my quarters. _

_Your quarters…? _Thorn asked, incredulous as he squinted to see Murtagh's surroundings through their bond. _I don't know where you are going, Murtagh. But this doesn't look like our cavern at all…_

_We're going to my father's old chambers… I suppose Galbatorix wants me in the castle… just in case I try to do something stupid._

_Hmpf…_

'Here we are, sir…' said the guard. 'I'll leave you here, if you need anything, please, don't hesitate to ring the bell at the entrance and someone will come right away.'

'Thank you…' Murtagh said unenthusiastically as he let his fingers brush over the surface of the large wooden door that led to his father's chambers.

'Also, sir… there is an alcove in the wall, just beside the bedroom. It's big enough for your Dragon friend to fit in. We'll have him come to you as soon as possible.' the man added. 'Oh, and… the King wants you to attend a banquet tomorrow, in the evening. It would seem that he has a declaration to make in front of the court...probably about the outcome of the Battle of the Burning Plains…'

_The Battle of the Burning Plains… _Murtagh thought bitterly. _More like the slaughter of the Burning Plains… this was barbaric butchery, nothing more. _

_War is barbaric, Murtagh, _Thorn rationalised. _You did your best to protect the men that had been placed under your responsibility. You have done your duty…_

_Oh great… Magdal's still dead in case you haven't noticed. _

Snorting to himself, Murtagh gave a little push to the door and listened carefully to the cringing noise it made as it opened…

_Some things never change, _he thought, remembering the last few hours he had spent there… remembering the time he had opened this door to find his mother laying dead on Morzan's bed…

'Guard…' he asked softly.

'Yes, sir ?'

'Have you heard from my first lieutenant…'

A small but sincere smile stretched the man's lips and something in his behaviour seemed to warm up instantly as he saw the flicker of concern that flashed through his young commander's eyes.

'Of course, sir! My sisters have been tending to his injuries.' he said with a hint of pride. 'He couldn't possibly be in better hands, my Lord. For now, he is still unconscious but… he will be just fine, I'm sure… just give it some time.'

Smiling despite his sour mood, Murtagh nodded his head shortly and turned his gaze back to the open door in front of him.

'Would you be so kind as to send someone to my chambers if he were to wake up before I visit him…?'

'Of course, sir !' the young guard said, bowing enthusiastically before he left.

_Why do people around me always act like a bunch of five-year-olds, _Murtagh thought, shaking his head in wonder.

_They don't, Murtagh, _Thorn smirked. _You're the one who's being way too mature sometimes… _

_Excuse me, but I've got every reason to feel old beyond my years, _Murtagh scoffed.

_Yeah sure… you're a sixty-years-old granpa in a eighteen-year-old body… tsss. _

_I'll be nineteen in a few weeks, _the Rider remarked sadly.

_You'll always be my little hatchling… so don't you get all worked up. _

Slightly more relaxed, Murtagh took a few steps towards the centre of the room, closing the door behind him before he took a look around.

_This room is still the same… exactly the same, _he swallowed, lifting his hand to let his fingers trail over the back of the large, velvet covered armchair that stood on the richly carpeted floor, just in front of an imposing fire-place.

Nothing had changed… if he squinted hard enough, Murtagh could almost see his father's massive figure slouched in the armchair…

Except that he now knew that the man wasn't that massive at all, after all… but the boy had been so tiny and easily-impressionable. Morzan had towered over him then… would he now ?

Shaking his head weakly, Murtagh took his eyes off the armchair and quickly scanned the room for any sign of his mother's belongings…

_No dust… _he remarked as he took in the perfectly orderly bookcases that sat against the wall opposite the door. _Galbatorix must have sent someone to clean this room before I came back. _

Sighing, Murtagh tilted his head back to look up at the painting on the ceiling… Dragons, everywhere… his father had always been fascinated with wild Dragons…

Closing his eyes tiredly, Murtagh let the rich scent of the room overwhelm him… it smelled of leather… with a lingering touch of Lilac from his mother's perfume.

'_Murtagh, dear… don't sit so close to the fireplace…'_

Blinking rapidly as he felt hot tears gathering behind his lids, Murtagh lifted a hand and ran his fingers through his dirty hair.

The walls, soberly, still warmly decorated, were highlighted by a few flaps of dark-crimson velvet… cautiously crossing the dimly lit room, Murtagh sucked a deep breath in before he took a look inside his mother's old room.

Leaning against the doorframe, he lets his gaze wander from the neatly made bed to the dark, wooden desk propped against the wall.

Selena would always pick him up and sit him on her desk when she wanted to comb his hair, her bright hazel-eyes sparkling with pride and love as she told him, over and over, how much he looked like his father.

She had been so frail… so frail and delicate, with her long golden hair and her slightly tanned skin… so unlike Morzan…

Shuddering at the thought of his father's ghostly pale skin, Murtagh turned away from the room, his eyes tightly shut.

_Upon hearing the pained howl that echoed through the castle, Murtagh jumped down from his nurse's laps and ran towards the hall, ignoring the old woman's alarmed cry._

_He knew that voice…_

_As soon as he entered the great hall, he saw his father's head snap up towards him. His eyes were red, blood was sipping from the corner of his lips… his whole body was hunched over. _

_Using his sword to support himself, Morzan tried to stand up from his kneeling position but the tall man in front of him gave him a hard push in the chest with his foot, sending him crashing on his back. _

_Gasping softly as he saw the flash of bright blue magic shoot from the cloaked figure's right hand, Murtagh clenched his jaw, his heart pounding madly in his ears._

_Ignoring him, the man bent down to pick up his father's sword… the same sword that had split his whole back open, scarring him for life, not so long ago… and Murtagh sighed, relieved to see that cursed weapon leave his genitor's hand. _

'_Vengeance won't bring Saphira back, Brom…' Morzan smirked, his blood-shot green-eyes darting from Murtagh to the man in front of him._

'_This is not vengeance… this is retribution…'_

Shaking himself from his trance, Murtagh tore his eyes open to see that he had let himself slop against the wall.

_Swallowing past the lump in his throat, the boy forced himself to watch as the cloaked figure swirled Zar'roc once before slicing his father's throat with a lazy flick of the wrist. _

_Murtagh was frozen in place, his eyes completely blank as he watched Morzan blood flow from the deep gash in his neck. _

_He was still here, kneeling a few feet from his father's corpse, when Galbatorix finally dropped by Morzan's sides, frantically feeling his chest for any sign of a pulse, his grim face contorted in a frightening mask of pain and distress._

_The King's scream of anguish had echoed through the whole castle, freezing Murtagh's blood inside his veins as he stood there, unable to move or say anything…_

_The only thing he remembered after that were the strong hands that pulled him from the floor and took him away from the scene of his father's death…_

At the sound of batting wings just outside his chambers, Murtagh's eyes shot open. Welcoming the distraction from his morose thoughts, he pushed himself up from the ground. Trying to calm himself with slow, deep breaths, he then took a few steps towards the source of the deafening noise.

_Murtagh ? _Thorn called from the adjoining room, which was, surprisingly, large enough for the broad Dragon to fit in comfortably. There was a wide opening in the wall opposite the door that led to the spacious balcony on which said Dragon was currently sitting, his head slightly tilted to the side.

_So, _Thorn frowned in his mind, _This is where you grew up…_

_Well, until my mother died that is… _

_I'm sorry… _Thorn frowned, feeling his Rider's agitation… _do you mind if I come in…? _

Murtagh scoffed and turned on his heels, gesturing for Thorn to follow him into the room.

_Galbatorix has probably charmed this room so no matter how big and fat you get you will never outgrow it, _he snorted.

_Aha, very funny, Murtagh… _Thorn grunted. _I'm not fat…_

_Right… you're not fat, you're big-boned…_

Snorting, Thorn gave him a shove in the back with his muzzle, chuckling cheerfully as his insolent Rider fell face first into the straw that was covering the floor.

Swearing colourfully, Murtagh rolled over, bits of straw sticking out of his messy black hair, to shoot him a deadly glare.

_You are so going to pay for that, _he promised.

_Right, farmer boy ! Come and get me ! _

)))oOo(((

Meanwhile, in Aberon, the last of the Varden's troops finally regained their homes, some alive, some dead, but still, for the most part, ready to celebrate their victory…

Seated on Saphira's scaled back at the farthest entrance of the city, Eragon heaved another sigh as he took in the countless bodies, lined in front of the graveyard, waiting to be buried… they were dead, gone forever, most of them too battered and butchered to be recognised… and still, the rest of the men were already preparing a celebration…

_You can't blame them, Eragon… most of them are just trying to forget… _

_I know… _

Hopping off his Dragon's back, Eragon grunted slightly as he felt his tired knees cracks from the impact.

_What are you going to do about Murtagh…? _Saphira asked him cautiously.

Clenching his jaw tightly, Eragon turned back to give her a pointed look…

_I'll do what has to be done…_

_'Did you kill the coward responsible for this?'_

'_He escaped.' Eragon could not bring himself to explain that the Rider was Murtagh._

_Orik stamped his fist into his hand. 'Barzûln!'_

'_But I swear to you upon every stone in Alagaësia that, as one of Dûrgrimst Ingeitum, I'll do everything I can to avenge Hrothgar's death.'_

'_Aye, you're the only one besides the elves strong enough to bring this foul murderer to justice. And when you find him... grind his bones to dust, Eragon. Pull his teeth and fill his veins with molten lead; make himsuffer for every minute of Hrothgar's life that he stole.'_

)))oOo(((

Okay, okay ! Here's the last chapter of this first part ! I hope it was entertaining… not particularly interesting but I needed a smooth transition between the books.

This chapter's dedicated to Riotfox311 because Mother-hen!Galby is fun. (but don't worry, he'll stay in character… narf). The first chapter of second part is already half-done

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it !


End file.
